


We Want Without New Rules

by essieincinci



Series: No Finer Mess To Be Found [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Chubby Kink, Comic Book Science, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Depression, Fluff and Angst, Handwaving, Insecurity, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Self-cest, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/essieincinci/pseuds/essieincinci
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As soon as the shimmering, blinding light fades, James, who hasn’t said anything to anyone in over a week, whispers “Steve” in the most reverent, awed tone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Want Without New Rules

**Author's Note:**

> So this started as a prompt over on tumblr about what might happen if CPB Steve and Bucky met MCU Steve and Bucky and ... it spiraled out of control. 
> 
> This is marked as part of the Chubby Punk Bucky Verse, in that ~~you need to be at least passingly familiar with the other works in the series to understand this one. However, it's going to stand alone in the series in that nothing that happens in this story will affect anything before or after.~~ it is pretty solidly part of that verse, and actually plays a significant role in it. Oops?
> 
> It's also slightly darker in tone than the other stories in this series. If there's anything you're concerned with in the tags, please let me know. 
> 
> As always, enormous thanks to alittlepudge-neverhurtnobody and vanessadoes, without whom this series wouldn't even exist, let alone be readable.
> 
> Title from Nirvana's Lounge Act.

As soon as the shimmering, blinding light fades, James, who hasn’t said anything to anyone in over a week, whispers “ _Steve_ ” in the most reverent, awed tone.

“That’s close enough, motherfucker,” Bucky snarls, fighting off the feeling of vertigo and shakily standing in front of Steve, who’s doubled over and dry-heaving on the hardwood floor. He’s starting to wheeze and turn red, but he’s got his fists clenched, ready to fight.

Bucky needs to take care of this before it gets worse, but this hobo-looking fucker and his giant blond goon are coming way too fucking close and he doesn’t know where they hell they are and his hands are shaking and he’s seriously about to lose it.

“You have to calm him,” Hobo insists, gesturing between Steve and Bucky with a knife and jerking his chin. He takes another step forward.

“I know how to take care of him, back the _fuck_ up.”

“Buck - James,” the giant, sort-of familiar-looking blond guy says, holding his hands out in front of him in the universal signal of not-a-threat.

“Do you?” Hobo sneers. In Russian. “I don’t think you do.”

Big blond guy pales. “Oh. That’s me.”

What the fuck is happening?

*

“Am I in the hospital?” Steve mumbles, starting to come to. Bucky didn’t ask why there was an oxygen tank and mask in this guy’s bathroom first aid kit, because he knows better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Also, he’s clearly gone insane.

He’s just thankful it was there, and that it was, in fact, oxygen in the tank, and that he’s stopped feeling nauseated, and that Steve’s waking up.

“Did they give me Demerol? They can’t give me that, _-ol_ and _-al_ drugs, any of them. It’s in my chart. I’m allergic, I know I sound like a junkie but it’s morphine or nothing - ”

“Hush,” Bucky says, reaching over and tucking the blanket up around Steve’s shoulders. He feels cold. Colder than usual. “You’re okay, it’s okay, everything’s okay.”

“Not the tone of voice of someone who thinks everything is okay,” Steve slurs, too quickly. His breathing’s too shallow, and Bucky’s seen the signs: he’s about to puke again.

“I’ll explain in a minute, try to drink some water.”

“Do those guys” - Steve wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gargles with some of the water Bucky brought him - “do they look familiar to you?”

*

“So we’re going to their version of Tony’s.”

“Yes.”

“He’s a billionaire here. With a _B_.”

“Apparently.”

“And he’s going to tell us that the scary guy is you, which I can sort of see, if any of this was possible and I was taking this seriously and not convinced someone put peyote in the drinking water at our going-away party.”

Bucky huffs out a little laugh and helps Steve stand up. He’s a little unsteady on his feet, and Bucky pulls him into a hug to prevent any ‘I can do it myself’ toddler bullshit from Steve.

“Not only that,” Steve goes on, slowly, stubbornly pushing away from Bucky, but able to stand on his own now. “But they’re going to prove that the six-foot-two, two hundred pound wall of muscle in there is me.”

“Yup.”

“Because of World War Two, Tony’s dad, and vita rays.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Bucky?”

“Yeah, babe?”

“The fuck’s a _vita ray_?”

*

“Tony’s sending a car for us,” I-Guess-Call-Me-Cap-For-Now says on the way to the basement garage. “I only drive a motorcycle,” he adds, shrugging self-consciously. He’s got the same facial structure as Steve, though Bucky’s not sold on the whole “I’m you but in another dimension” thing Cap seems to have settled on as an explanation. He claims Tony Stark (again, the same, but different) can provide proof.

For all Bucky knows, they’re about to climb willingly into a Lincoln Towncar of Death and Dismemberment, but what other choice is there?

James, who Bucky is pretty sure looks like he would look if he’d spent his time recovering from Colombia doing crunches and wrestling bears in a Russian gulag rather than drinking beer and eating cookies in punk clubs, is lurking in the shadows, his eyes glued to Steve.

He goes by James here, rather than Bucky, and he has the unkempt look and wary readiness of too many days spent on the battlefield. Bucky can see the same look in his eye that he saw in the mirror the first few months after he’d left the hospital, before he found Clint and Natasha and the club.

And Steve.

James has the carved, hard body of a man who was more weapon than human, his muscular build evident even under his jeans and hoodie. Bucky looks down at his ample gut, swollen still with the enormous dinner he’d eaten back home, laughing and accepting slaps on the back and bon voyages from his friends before he took Steve on their honeymoon.

He wonders if it’s any easier for James to maintain his weight than it was for himself.

“Of course,” Steve grumbles, pushing his glasses up his nose and crossing his arms over his chest. He shivers when a cold gust of air sweeps through the open garage doors.

Bucky elbows him in the ribs, “Please try not to piss off our inter-dimensional hosts,” Bucky mutters. “I’ve seen enough movies to know how that goes.”

“Oh, you must like bikes, too, I guess. Since, you know?” Cap trails off. “I can show you?” He swings an impossibly long leg over a beauty, classic lines and gorgeous chrome. When he starts her up and revs, once, she makes the loveliest thick, throaty sound.

Steve makes a happy noise, then frowns, looking pissed at himself.

Bucky feels the bile rise in the back of his throat, and refuses to think of the smell of exhaust or the squeal of metal on metal. He instead focuses on watching Steve actually turn green with envy.

Cap explains some the modifications Mr. Stark has made to his baby. Steve asks about them, how they’re even possible, scoffing until Cap proves they exist.

The engine revs again and Bucky closes his eyes.

When the car comes, Bucky stands back to let Steve climb in first. Now that the intrigue of the motorcycle is behind him, it’s obvious how badly he needs to sit. He’s pale and breathing too shallowly and he’s of course too proud to admit it, especially in front of Cap. James immediately tries to follow him into the car, but Bucky manages to shove his way in first. He puts his arm around Steve and tucks him under his arm.

Steve rests his head on Bucky’s chest.

James spends the remainder of the ride clearly trying to make Bucky’s heart stop with his brain.

Bucky’s a little worried he might be able to.

*

“So, that’s you.”

“That’s what I’m waiting for you to tell me.” Cap moves the machine Tony pointed a few feet to the left. He’s happy to have something to do, an outlet for the restlessness he can’t seem to shake. It’s only gotten worse in the few hours since what appears to be himself showed up in his living room.

“He’s so little.”

“I was.”

“No, I know, I saw the files. I know, we all _know_. I just, he’s so.”

Cap gently sets the machine down because it’s important and expensive and might help them get Steve and Bucky - god, Bucky - home.

“Steve’s probably about ten pounds heavier than I was when I joined up,” Cap says, looking out the lab’s glass doors to where Bucky - the other Bucky, the one who’s married to Steve - is rubbing his hand casually up and down Steve’s back. Steve’s resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder. Cap recognizes the stubborn look on his face as trying not to pass out through sheer force of will. “Give or take.”

“Holy shit, how did you not _die_?”

“You’re not the first person to ask me that.” Cap can’t actually provide an estimate of how many people have asked him that. He’s too tired to smile self-deprecatingly and say, in his best for-the-press Captain America voice, “I guess I was just lucky.”

“All right,” Tony says, snapping his fingers and bumping his fists together. “Bring the boy wonder in here and let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

*

"Wait, so you … dress up in costumes and fight crime?" Bucky asks Cap, flexing his arm as Dr. Banner gets ready to draw his blood.

"Yes."

"And your name is … Captain America?"

"Yes," Cap says, but he has the decency to look chagrined.

"What the hell kind of Fox News bullshit -" Steve starts.

“It’s not like that, it started in the War,” Cap starts.

“Oh, of course it did. Wars are _great_ for right wing industrialists to capitalize off patriotism.”

“Jesus, Steve, _shut up_ ,” Bucky hisses. There’s a strange man jabbing a needle into his arm, and Steve doesn’t know when to pick his fucking battles.

“What, you just woke up one day and thought, sure, I could do something great with this body, but what really sounds good is dressing up in the flag and calling myself Captain America?”

“Don’t forget the time he punched Hitler,” Tony adds helpfully.

“Dammit, Stark. I told you, that’s not what it -”

“Oh, well, sure. I coulda single-handedly found the WMDs if I’d have had a shot of fucking vita rays,” Steve says, jerking the blood pressure cuff off his arm.

James looks up from sharpening his knife at the clatter Steve makes when he throws the cuff back on the lab table.

“It’s not going to work. You have to use a smaller one, which I’m sure you don’t have around here,” he says, flinty-eyed and refusing to look at Cap’s massive biceps. “It’s too low, it’s always too low. That’s not going to tell you anything.”

"Look, no one hates Fox News more than I do, okay, can we focus?"

Bucky sits up straight. "Oh my god, you’re superheroes.”

Steve and Cap give him identical looks, probably wondering if he’s concussed.

“Does that mean Batman’s real? Is there a guy named-"

"Bucky, shut up! You can’t tell them his real name!" Steve presses his hand over Bucky’s mouth. Bucky licks his palm. Steve still looks a little green around the edges, but at least he’s distracted from his righteous indignation.

"Steve, come on, they probably already know."

"Batman’s not real," Cap says.

"That’s like saying ‘have every reporter just take off his glasses.’ You can’t do that to them."

"Batman’s not real, guys."

"Shit, that’s right! Superman! Is he real?”

"Their identities are secret to keep their loved ones safe, Bucky. What if you just killed Lois Lane?”

“Hey, you said her name, not me.”

"No! None of them are real. They are comic book characters and they're not real!” Cap shouts.

James steps slightly closer, gaze darting around but knife held steady at his side.

“You’re a comic book character, OG Cap,” Tony says, straightening up from the monitor closest to Steve. He really is almost exactly like their Tony. He looks older, more worn, but otherwise, he’s the closest thing to home they’ve seen yet.

“You’re not helping, Tony,” Cap sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. For a split second, he looks painfully, _exactly_ like Steve. “Do you have any results?”

*

Tony doesn’t tell Bucky much about the tech, for all he never shuts up during the exams. It’s the babble of frustration. Tony Stark is not a man who appreciates not understanding things in any universe. But Bucky wants to know what this stuff is. It’s sure as hell cooler than a damn organ made from found objects. That monstrosity only made flat notes until Fitz looked at it, anyway, and then Bruce and Tony got into an argument over whether it was better before or after. Clint stole the middle C key (part of an _O_ from an old stop sign) and now it’s hanging in a tasteful frame in Coulson’s home office.

Bucky’s really starting to miss his normal life back home.

For all he can tell, this Tony, Bruce, and Pepper are pretty similar to the ones at home, though Bucky’s not certain if their situation is the same. Tony drops Pepper’s name casually into conversation enough that Bucky can see the intimacy there, and he works around Bruce so seamlessly, intuitively knowing when to go over and when to go under, when to zig and when to zag.

Bruce is reticent, focused on the work, not really chatty either, about much more than the tests they’re running and the medical questions. He isn’t having much luck comparing Bucky’s medical history to James’, since James isn’t speaking to anyone and has so far refused to set foot near the equipment. No one bothers to ask him to come any closer.

Bucky overhears Cap quietly telling Dr. Banner, “It’s not as if he’ll be able to tell you, anyway. I don’t remember him ever going to the doctor if it wasn’t about me. He broke his arm when he was twelve. He fell out of a tree. His little sisters used to get sick, but he only ever got a cold once or twice that I can remember.”

“So, there are others? What do you call yourselves? Avengers?” Bucky asks, trying to distract himself from the way James is prowling the perimeter, staying close to Steve’s side of the room.

“Tony’s fault.”

Everyone else - The Avengers - it’s just too weird.

Thor does hang out with Jane and Darcy, and that’s a relief. Thor is actually Thor, though, the Thor, like, with the lightning, and not some Scandinavian dude with hippie parents. Because that’s a thing here.

Jane might be able to help them. She has some experience with “situations like this.” Bucky doesn’t ask if they mean interdimensional travel or doppelgangers or whatever explanation they’ve settled on. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter.

“Can she get us home?”

Tony and Bruce exchange glances. “The more genius brains on this, the better.”

“Sure, sure,” Bucky says, then switches his focus back to Steve.

Halfway through the explanation of who’s who, Sam drops by. He introduces himself and he smiles, but he’s not their Sam and it’s awkward and too polite and strangely formal, and it just makes everything hurt. Sam is close friends with Cap here, and tries to ignore James while keeping him in his sights at all times.

James, for his part, frowns at Sam, then looks down, twisting his ever-present knife back and forth in his grip as he shifts slightly onto the balls of his feet. He hunches his shoulders a couple of times, like he has an itch in the middle of his back he can’t quite reach, and frowns at Sam’s back when he walks with Cap out onto the balcony.

Dr. Banner asks Bucky to come with him to the MRI.

Bucky pats Steve on the shoulder on his way past, with one last glance at James.

*

“I don’t like hospitals either,” Steve says to James’ back once they’re alone. “Too much time in them.”

James glances at him and then continues stalking around the edges of the lab. Steve’s seen Bucky do this when it gets really bad, hot August nights when he can’t settle and can’t sleep and can barely speak for shaking so bad. When he won’t let Steve hold him and he doesn’t want anything to eat, sometimes he’ll let Steve babble at him, make innocent, safe background noise to ground him in the present.

In all their time together, Bucky’s never told him the whole story of what happened to him. He says he doesn’t remember a lot of it, and he doesn’t like to talk about the parts he does remember. He talks to Sam sometimes, and has once or twice gone to an actual, licensed professional, but he doesn’t need it most of the time. The books say not to push. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever tried to do.

As bad as it must have been for Bucky, whatever James has been through was clearly worse. That, or he has absolutely no support system. Maybe both. At least Bucky found Clint and Tasha and Sam to help him. It looks like all James has is Cap, who can’t seem to be bothered with helping him all that much, and Cap’s friends, who seem content to treat James warily, but indifferently.

Like he’s very dangerous furniture.

Well, Steve’s here now, and there’s not much he can do from a hospital bed in a laboratory when he’s about two heartbeats away from passing out again, but he can do this.

He says, “It’s a little bit the smell, a little bit the noise, but mostly the boredom.”

“This isn’t a hospital,” James says.

Steve watches him swallow thickly, like he hasn’t spoken much recently.

“Is that why it bothers you? Because it’s _not_ a hospital?”

James looks at Steve blankly.

“Tony - Mr. Stark, I guess. It’s not like we’re friends here. And Dr. Banner, they seem competent enough. I’ve definitely had worse doctors.”

James snorts a little sound. “Worse,” he agrees.

“You don’t like them?”

James shrugs. “Don’t much know them.”

“Why not? They’re friends with Cap, you’re friends with Cap.”

“Not friends.”

“What are you then?”

James tightens his mouth into a little frown and blinks, looking frustrated, like his words are just out of reach. “I don’t know.”

*

James continues his perimeter check while Steve talks to him. This Steve looks right, but isn’t. The man who came with him, the man he calls Bucky, looks wrong, but isn’t. Like everything else, it’s both right and wrong at the same time, both safe and unsafe, both new and old.

The Captain had tried to explain that he had once been Steve, just like James had once been Bucky. James can almost remember when The Captain was small. But the story he’d told James, the same story he repeated when he tried to explain things to Steve and Bucky had been ridiculous, unbelievable. But it also, somehow, matched.

It matched the museum.

It matched the things he thought he remembered.

He’d started to believe that this Captain, who claimed to be Steve, who patiently explained time and again how that could be possible, could actually be Steve. His mission. Not his mission. His handler. Not his handler.

That he could be Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers’ best friend.

Then Steve had shown up, the real Steve, the Steve he remembered.

The one he’d waited for in the tank.

The one he’d waited for in the snow.

The one he’d waited for in the factory.

Tiny and fierce, angry and kind. That’s what James remembered. That’s who James needed, needed to keep and keep safe.

Not this Captain, tall and strong, sad and quiet. The one who came for him and then didn’t need him. The one who wouldn’t fight him or fight for him.

Right and not right, wrong and not wrong.

Of course the stories didn’t match.

Of course the stories matched.

It was too ridiculous to be true.

It was too ridiculous to make up.

It was sloppy work.

They wouldn’t be sloppy with this.

The Captain is no more similar to Steve than James is to this Bucky. Not in his build, not in his childhood, not in his time spent in service to his country. This Steve never even spent time in the army, which is how it should have been, How James can almost remember fighting so hard to make it.

Because Steve should be safe at home. Steve should be allowed in the Army.

The army had killed Steve.

*

Cap watches Steve hop down from the exam table, then hold preternaturally still, no doubt waiting for the light-headedness to clear. Apparently this Steve didn’t escape that particular fate, either, though he’s managed better than Cap had. He doesn’t seem as resentful, as angry all the time as Cap remembers being. Maybe it’s a generational difference. Maybe it’s having Bucky’s steady presence by his side. Maybe it’s a lot of things.

Steve unrolls his sleeve with fluid, practiced motions, just a quick flick of his wrist and it’s done. He casually braces himself against the table, keeping most of his weight off his right ankle. It had always been the weaker of the two for Cap.

He asks, “Why is the MRI in another room?” when Bruce leads him through the door and quietly tries to explain.

When Cap looks at Steve, it’s not pity he feels, though. It’s envy. It’s darker than that. Worse than that. It’s every unnamable feeling he’s kept buried inside since S.H.I.E.L.D. Since Times Square. Since … always.

Steve, who gets to keep their name, because he's a guest, because he's ill, because Cap comes with a handy nickname already, now even inside his own home.

Steve, with his uncomplicated, simple little life, making people beautiful with tattoos and making them happy with his art.

Steve, who can joke about Batman when he’s been whisked into a parallel universe, because it doesn’t leave an entire world unprotected.

They’d run medical tests, asking Cap and Steve the same series of questions about their ailments to see if they were the same.

They weren’t.

Sure, Steve’s not as healthy as Cap is now - no one but maybe James is, at least physically. But he’s a hell of a lot healthier than Cap had been in his time. With the medical care available to Steve and his mother when he was born, no rheumatic fever, no scarlet fever. He’d gotten strep throat a lot and had his tonsils out, but that was the worst it had gotten.

He doesn’t even have a bad ear - apparently they put tubes in them when he was a baby.

He had a surgery - routine, fairly minor - and wore a brace in junior high to straighten his spine, which sure, the internet says is uncomfortable and a cause for bullying, but it sure beats the constant pain of being folded up like an accordion on the inside.

He has access to all kinds of fortified food to keep his anemia in check, he’s able to control his blood pressure and his sugar, he has enough food whenever he wants it.

He has friends and he smiles and his world is safe and normal and he has a Peggy and.

His Bucky loves him.

*

After they’re all settled around the table, Tony turns his monitor around so they can all see it. It doesn’t clear anything up for anyone but Tony and Bruce, though.

“All that’s to say, congratulations, it’s a bouncing baby boy. And a bouncing baby Bucky, too, I guess.”

“Everything matches,” Doctor Banner says. “They’re biological, they’re human, there’s nothing that says they’re not you, except the minor differences to be expected in their blood from being born in the eighties versus the teens.”

“How do we get home?” Bucky asks.

“We. Well. We don’t know,” Doctor Banner polishes his glasses.

Sam suggests talking through everyone they’ve interacted with over the past few days to see if there’s a commonality, or anyone who could have cause this while Banner and Stark run some more tests.

Cap is apparently a tactical genius, and Steve’s observant in his artist’s way. Bucky’s still a soldier at heart and James is. Well, James. They all notice things about people, places, that the others don’t. Between the four of them, they should be able to recreate the past forty-eight hours pretty completely.

Steve straightens. “Thor’s brother? He’s … no. That’s not. He’s _the_ Loki?”

“Yes,” Cap pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do you know him? Did you see him?”

“Vaguely. We met once, but that was years ago. It was weird.”

“I’m pretty sure when I met him, it was weirder.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize this was a contest,” Steve says, pushing back from the table.

“Who’s Loki here?” Bucky asks, holding Steve in place with a big hand on his shoulder and trying to break the tension.

“God of mischief,” Cap and Steve say at the same time, in the same defeated tone. They give each other the same dirty look. Bucky ducks and scratches the back of his head to keep them from seeing him try not to laugh. They’re just so alike. It’s no wonder they can’t stand each other.

“Tony’s going to check with Thor to see if he’s behind this, but so far it doesn’t seem likely,” Dr. Banner tells them.

‘There’s a more likely cause than the god of mischief?” Bucky asks.

“Who else did you see yesterday?” Sam asks.

“Just our friends. We had a small get-together. We were supposed to be leaving for our honeymoon.”

Bucky takes Steve’s hand in his and squeezes. “I promised you a once-in-a-lifetime trip.”

“‘And I may ask myself well, how did I get here?’ indeed,” Steve lets his head thump softly on the table.

When Steve tells them about their Peggy, Cap coughs and shakes his head. He says he’ll tell them about her later, and leaves get a glass of water. Sam goes with him.

Bruce looks up sharply and Tony drops his tablet when Bucky asks, “Well, Clint and Coulson, they’re together here, right? I mean, a Clint without Coulson, he’d be a _mess_.”

Tony and Bruce agree that Clint here is with Natasha. “We think. Probably. With relative certainty.”

Phil doesn’t live around here. They don’t really know where he is. Because he died.

Steve throws up again and has another asthma attack, which culminates in a migraine. Bucky’s pretty sure he hears James actually hiss at Sam when Steve starts rubbing his temples, but he’s still avoiding everything and everyone in the room. Bucky brings Steve a bottle of water and Bruce gives him a pain pill.

Once he’s calmed down, Bucky asks if there’s a roof or a balcony or anywhere he can spend a few minutes outside.

*

Tony slips him a pack of smokes on his way out to the balcony after he asks, “Fuck, has anyone in this universe not died?”

“It’s this or scotch,” he says with a shrug. “Or both, if you want.” Tony Stark: pan-universal good host.

Bucky declines. If he hits the bottle now, he probably won’t stop, and he needs to be clear-headed right now. Steve needs him right now. Maybe if they haven’t made it home in a day or two, he’ll spend a night getting rip-roaring plastered and go from there.

It’s always good to have a contingency plan.

“Also, please don’t jump. You would not believe the paperwork when things fall off the tower.” Tony Stark: pan-universal asshole.

Bucky stares out at the familiar city, trying to place where Stark Tower would be at home. It definitely doesn’t exist there, but he’s not sure what’s in this space back home. Like there’s just an extra city block in this Manhattan that just isn’t there back home.

Maybe there’s an internet connection where he could look up the actual square footage of the city somewhere and compare the two. If he knew off hand the measurements of home. He takes a drag, not really caring that it’s been long enough since he quit that he’s definitely going to get light-headed, and he’ll probably turn a little nauseous.

Bucky hears James’ soft footfalls behind him. He has a distinctive step, and Bucky’s not sure if he recognizes it as James’ due to his left-over training or because it’s similar to his own. He’s moving slowly, but definitely, loud enough that he obviously wants Bucky to know he’s there.

Bucky doesn’t turn around, just stares at the cherry glowing in the evening light, waiting. If James wants him to know he’s there, he’s most likely not in any danger at the moment. Or else it doesn’t matter if Bucky hears him behind him, because James is about to throw him off the roof. Either way, there’s nothing Bucky can really do about it. Hopefully James is aware of Tony’s paperwork problem.

“Shouldn’t smoke.” James’ voice when he talks to Bucky is nothing like it is when he talks to Steve.

“Shit’ll kill me in this universe, too, huh?” Bucky jokes.

“Habits are trackable,” James replies humorlessly.

Bucky waits without responding.

“Makes Steve vulnerable.”

Bucky snorts and takes a deep drag. “Steve can take care of himself.”

James makes a noise, too small to be a growl, but somewhere in that ballpark. “You can’t protect him if you’re dead.”

“Is that a threat?” He turns, but Bucky’s alone on the balcony. Scotch sounds like a damn good idea.

*

Cap doesn’t know what to think of this Bucky. He’s so much like his Bucky, from Way Back When, charming and easy-going, quick with a joke to lighten the mood. And fiercely loyal to his Steve, for reasons no one but Bucky himself can seem to fathom. A good soldier, a good man, honorably discharged after an accident he very emphatically didn’t want to talk about.

It didn’t seem relevant to their current predicament, so no one pushed once Bucky agreed he’d tell them if they deemed it necessary to getting them back home.

But he’s got a stillness to him, a dark streak that reminds him so much of James. They haven’t really interacted much. Bucky seems focused mainly on making sure Steve’s okay and secondarily on warily watching James. Cap himself seems to have been written off as incidental.

Not a threat, not Steve, not a concern.

Which is good, honestly. He’s not a threat. He’s just trying to hold it together long enough to fix it, to get these two home and get back to normal.

Where James doesn’t speak to him, his life’s work is in pieces, and he’s not sure what he’s given up and what he’s gained anymore.

Sam’s trying to help him, but he’d trailed off, standing strong and silent next to him.

“Thanks for coming,” Cap says.

“You wanna talk?”

Cap shakes his head.

“You’re going to have to sometime.”

“Not now, though.”

*

Everyone agrees that they should probably keep this situation contained, at least until they have an understanding of what, exactly, this situation is. Clearly the whole paradox / butterfly effect / sneeze and you’re your own grandfather thing is pretty much out the window, but there’s no telling what other negative ramifications universe hopping can have.

“The fewer people involved, the better,” Tony says. “True for unexplained science, less true for bedtime shenanigans. So are you four gonna - “

Bruce pinches Tony hard on the arm.

“What?” Tony asks, pinching Bruce back. “Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t?”

He says something about “The Other Guy” that Bucky doesn’t follow and Bruce ignores him, telling them it was nice to meet them, although strange, and they’ll be in touch as soon as they know anything.

*

Steve and Bucky sleep in Cap’s room, because of course he insisted. Steve and Cap argued about it for a minute, but Steve’s dead on his feet and Cap’s got Steve’s stubbornness times five.

Cap’s got Steve’s everything times five. He’s been pretty much a non-issue, so far, when compared to showing up in an alternate universe, Steve passing out, and the other him who potentially wants to kill him. Cap just squared his massive shoulders, sent Bucky to the first aid kit for Steve, and called Stark to figure this out. No muss, no fuss, like strangers from other worlds pop up in his living room on a weekly basis.

Bucky’s just closed his eyes to try to get some sleep when it happens. There’s no noise, no movement, nothing that gives it away, but Bucky knows when he’s being watched. He can’t see anything in the shadows, but that doesn’t mean James isn’t there.

Bucky wraps his arm tighter around Steve’s waist, pulls him in a little more. Steve sighs softly in his sleep and wiggles impossibly closer. He presses his lips to Steve’s forehead, partially because he wants to, but also because if James can see them, he wants James to see this.

There’s a faint whir and click from the darkest corner of the bedroom. He stays awake for the rest of the night, but he doesn’t see when James leaves them.

*

In the morning, Bucky’s eating the eggs Cap made. He’s never seen anyone scramble two and a half dozen eggs at one time outside the mess hall, but looking at Cap’s body, Bucky supposes it makes sense. He just hopes he never repeats his general daily caloric intake when Steve can hear. Popping a boner that hard, that fast might very well kill him.

James sits across from him, staring. He’s not visibly armed, which Bucky finds more disturbing than his little display of dexterity yesterday.

Cap’s given up on trying to make small talk, and Bucky’s relieved. He’s just as bad at it as Steve is when he’s not trying to sell something, which Bucky probably shouldn’t find as endearing as he does. He’s trying, he really is, but he and Cap haven’t really settled on any common ground, aside from the fact they’re a strange kind of inter-dimensional in-laws. Hard to fathom, but it’s kind of lacking as far as a conversation starter goes.

“So.”

“Yeah.”

“Married.”

“Yeah.” Bucky keeps himself from rubbing his ring with his thumb. There’s no reason to hide his tells, he knows this, especially with Steve, poster boy for bone-headed open-book civilian target around, but treating this like an op has kept his hand steady this morning. It’s why he doesn’t go on, why he can’t elaborate, why the conversation is so stilted and painful.

“Oh. Congratulations.” Cap keeps his back to Bucky, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture. It’s not the tell-tale disapproval Bucky’s used to watching for, but it’s something.

“Thank you.”

Whatever it is, Bucky’s attention is mostly on the World’s Deadliest Assassin sitting across from him. The Avengers are playing their cards pretty close to the vest still, but Cap doesn’t keep the greatest track of his cell phone, and shockingly enough, the internet is quite handy when your search terms are “Captain America” and “Scary Metal Arm Guy”.

When Steve shuffles in, sleep wrinkled and warm with Bucky’s shirt falling off his shoulder, James breathes out “ _Steve_ " in that hushed church tone he has. It’s the first sound he’s made all morning.

Bucky narrows his eyes.

Cap snaps the handle off of his cast iron skillet.

"Good morning, James," Steve says, his voice deep and rough from sleep. "Cap. Morning, Buck," he says, wrapping his arms around Bucky’s shoulders, and leaning in to kiss his cheek, behind his ear, the top of his head.

Bucky smiles and pushes back from the table to make some room. He pulls Steve around to sit in his lap. “Hungry?”

James makes a scoffing sound that Bucky chooses to ignore. Who’d have thought having a little sister would have been the best training for dealing with his psychotic alternate self?

Steve wrinkles his nose. "Maybe just toast?" His stomach hasn’t settled much since they got here. So far it seems to be the only adverse reaction - physically - any of them are having, and there’s no real telling if it’s a side effect of dimension-hopping or if it’s just Steve being Steve.

"Fruit?" James says softly, sliding a fruit bowl gently in front of Steve.

"Yeah, thanks, James. That’d be good."

Bucky reaches for a banana only to find a knife sticking out of the closest one, a hair’s breadth away from his fingers.

"No bananas," James says in Russian.

*

“You know what? Fuck that Cap guy,” Steve mutters, trying on the clothes someone on Stark’s staff had delivered. Apparently Tony’d used their scans or something to get their measurements and sent his assistant out to buy them clothes. Steve and Bucky had both protested, but they did need something to wear. Neither of them was going to fit into their other-selves’ clothes.

Bucky’s sure James would be happy to clothe Steve, wrap him up and mark him as his for the world to see. The the thought makes him want to see how long it would take in a fight before James put him down. He’s reasonably certain he could last a full minute. Gives the phrase ‘over my dead body’ a whole new meaning.

Besides, Pepper promised the clothes would be donated to a worthy cause if they weren’t needed.

“He’s a self-righteous, stuck up, know-it-all asshole.”

“Well, yeah, babe, that’s why I believe that he’s you,” Bucky tries to joke. He’s doing his best to hold it together, because if he starts slipping, he’s not sure he’ll come back.

“That’s not funny, Buck.”

“It’s kind of funny.”

“It isn’t. He gets to go off, looking like that? His arms are the size of - of me! Do you know what good he could do if he was a firefighter or a cop or something? Instead of parading around in a costume to sell this American Dream bullshit? He’s like Stephen Colbert but in real life.”

“Oh, man, I bet this universe’s Colbert had him on all the time,” Bucky grins. “Think Colbert’s still on here?”

“Dunno. _Cap_ doesn’t have a TV. _Cap_ spends his time with books, because reading doesn’t make his perfect eyes hurt.”

“Glad you had your glasses on when we hopped over instead of your contacts?”

“Fuck. You,” Steve says bitterly, buttoning up his jeans. They’re a little too long and just a bit loose in the waist, but what else is new? He pushes his glasses back up his nose.

“Your you is still pretty much you,” Bucky ignores the sound Steve makes as he changes the subject. “Stubborn and self-sacrificing and noble and good and determined and polite and shit. My me is scary silent robot assassin guy who hates me and everyone else and has a psychotic obsession with you.”

“Well, yeah, babe, that’s why I believe he’s you,” Steve parrots.

“You’re a shit,” Bucky says, hooking his fingers in the baggy waistband of Steve’s jeans and pulling him over to the bed, between his spread knees.

Steve puts his thumbs under Bucky’s jaw and tilts his head back, leans down to kiss him. The kiss immediately turns sloppy, desperate, too much teeth and no finesse.

“God, I’m glad you’re here,” he says, over and over between the kisses. “I don’t know what. I couldn’t. Do you see what we’re _like_? Don’t go anywhere. Don’t go away.”

“Not going anywhere. I’m right here, babe. Right here,” Bucky tries to say, but Steve’s climbing onto his lap, tugging at his lip ring with his teeth, scratching his back and squeezing Bucky’s hips with his knees.

“Uh, guys?” Cap says from the doorway. He’s looking away, body held rigidly and jaw clenched. James is twirling a knife in the living room behind him. “The clothes are okay, then?”

*

Bucky watches James stare at Steve like he wants to pick him up and run off with him, chain him up in a cave somewhere and love him and squeeze him and fucking call him George.

He stares at Bucky like he’s shit he scraped off his shoe.

James is sitting across from Bucky. He’s said, “You’re doing it wrong,” in various languages at strategically randomized times throughout the day. So far Bucky’s recognized English, Portuguese, Russian, German, Mandarin, French and is pretty sure he heard Greek, Cantonese, Korean, and even Latin.

This is a test to see how many of the languages he actually knows, how he’ll react, what conclusion he’ll jump to over what “it” is. Good way to figure out Bucky’s priorities, what he’s defensive over, what can be used against him.

Bucky’s employed the tactic once or twice himself. He was almost this good at it, too.

He shifts on the sofa and keeps sketching out plans for the rec center’s Spring garden. He's pretty damn tired of playing ignore-it-and-it’ll-go-away with James, but he has no other reasonable course of action.

They can’t leave; Doctor Banner had made it very clear, though he was gentle about it, that there is nowhere to go, nowhere to run, and quite frankly, no reason to.

Bucky can’t take James in a fight, he knows that. Even at his best, back in the service, he wouldn’t have been able to take him. The dude has a fucking _indestructible metal arm_. And Bucky’s kept in shape, sure, but he’s far from at his best.

So he’s just going to sit, and wait, and ignore James taunting him and trying to eyefuck his husband. It’s cool.

“I need a smoke.”

James glares at him as he heads out to the balcony.

*

“Fever dream?” Cap suggests.

“I suppose you think I’m responsible for that, then?” Steve asks, crossing and recrossing his arms.

Cap won’t make eye contact with Steve.

“In that case, maybe we’re frozen in a glacier. Ever think of that?”

James twitches. “We’re not frozen.” He glances at Cap when he says it, though, as if he’s not entirely sure.

“How is my fever dream affecting all of us, Cap? Wanna drag out your medical degree and explain that one?”

“I didn’t mean - “

“Maybe we’re an adrenaline-fueled nightmare, then,” Steve continues, clenching his fists. “It seems like if anyone caused this, it’s probably the asshole who fights with gods and monsters and shit on a regular fucking basis!”

“I want a burger,” Bucky says loudly, coming back into the kitchen.

“He’s too thin,” James says, looking from Steve to Bucky and back again. “Do you take his food?”

“Hey, fuck _you_ , James,” Steve whirls away from Cap, slamming his hands on the table, red-faced and sweaty.

James blinks, pulling his mouth into a frown.

“I want a burger, Steve, let’s go.” Bucky insists, shamelessly using his greater bulk to squeeze between Steve and the table, blocking Steve from James’ view. It means putting James at his back, but Steve’s going to get them both killed if he doesn’t get him out of there, like, yesterday.

“No, you can’t just _say_ things like that. He can’t say things like that, Bucky, I swear to god, get the fuck out of my way.”

“Let’s go, Steve.” Bucky keeps his grip on Steve’s skinny upper arms and frog-marches him out of the apartment, snagging his leather jacket on the way. He lets go when they get outside, and waits for Steve to angrily stalk a little ways ahead of him before trailing slowly after him.

After a block and a half, Steve’s slowed down enough that Bucky can catch up. His arms are wrapped around himself, hands tucked into his armpits and his teeth are already chattering.

“Next time, don’t piss off our super soldier hosts in the middle of February.”

Steve glares at him.

Bucky holds his jacket out to Steve, who looks away, down the street, but angrily snatches the jacket out of Bucky’s hands.

They walk another block or so in silence.

“Burger?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, come on,” Bucky ducks into a diner. It’s not their diner, but it’ll do. “I won’t even take yours this time.”

Steve shoves him through the door, his fingers just poking out from the sleeves of Bucky’s coat. He rocks back on his heels a little bit. “You’re not funny, asshole. I’m as mad at you as I am at them.”

They place their orders and comment on the differences between this diner and theirs.

“Careful, I might change my mind and eat all your fries. Then what’ll you do?”

“I’ll get James to murder you in your sleep.”

“Not cool, that’s a legitimate possibility.”

When the waitress disinterestedly drops off their platters, Steve hesitates.

“Eat up. babe.”

“What if it is all my fault?” Steve stops in the middle of a bite.

“What?”

Steve looks up at Bucky and hunches in on himself.

“How can it be your fault?” Bucky reaches across the table to take Steve’s cold hand in his. “You’re just a kid from Brooklyn. What could you have possibly done to cause us to end up in an alternate universe?”

Steve shrugs, squeezing Bucky’s hand. “Maybe it is a fever dream. Maybe I’m in a hospital for real. Maybe I’m in a coma.”

“You’re not in a coma, Steve.”

‘How do you know? This kind of seems like exactly the sort of scenario I’d dream up in my subconscious. You know, a perfect, ridiculous, unattainable version of me. He’s an actual, literal comic book hero, Buck.”

“So your subconscious thinks I’m an amnesiatic super assassin?”

‘Well. I mean. Kind of?” Steve smiles crookedly at Bucky.

“That’s pretty shitty, babe,” Bucky says, but he steals a fry off Steve’s plate.

“My subconscious is a nasty, dirty place, Bucky, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Hmm. That would explain why James wants to fuck you so bad.”

Steve kicks Bucky in the shin under the table. “He does not.”

“Steve, he wants to bend you over and have you six ways from Sunday.”

“You’re projecting,” Steve says.

"Nope."

"He does not."

“Does.”

“Eat your burger.”

Bucky grins at him and takes a big bite. It’s not Ruby’s, but it’s not bad. Besides, Steve’s eating again, too, and that’s always a good sign.

*

When Steve and Bucky return to the apartment, James warily watches them out of the corner of his eye. Bucky hangs back letting Steve walk all the way into the living room and stand in front of where James is sitting on the sofa.

Cap hovers slightly behind him and catches Bucky’s eye. He might be standing at James’ back, but the look he shares with Bucky puts him on their side. Bucky shrugs and Cap nods, both agreeing to see how this will play out.

“I shouldn’t have upset you.” James says, hesitant voice turning it into an uncertain question.

“No, you shouldn’t have. But it’s okay. It’s been a rough couple of days.”

James nods.

“You owe Bucky an apology, though.”

“Why?” James tilts his head.

Cap crosses his arms behind James.

Steve just frowns at him, and firms up his stance. “Because what you said was rude and mean-spirited and uncalled for.”

James stares at his hands for a minute. “I apologize for being rude. It was mean-spirited and uncalled for.” Even though he basically just parroted back exactly what Steve told him to say, it somehow sounded sincere.

“Thank you.”

Cap’s expression doesn’t change at all.

*

James opens the bedroom door and walks in quietly but making no secret of his visit that night. “They tell me The Captain is Steve,” he says.

“Yes, we’ve established that,” Bucky replies, rolling Steve over and putting him on the far side of the bed, Bucky between him and James. It won’t stop him, if he wants to take him, but it might slow him. For a second or two. It’s something. He has to be able to do something.

Steve, for his part, lets loose with a monstrous snore.

Bucky rolls his eyes and James might do something with his mouth that could have dreams of being a smile someday. He shakes his head. “Before you. This. They told me The Captain was Steve.”

“Right.”

“No,” James says quickly, his breath coming hard and fast. “It is not right. I left him like that.” James points at Steve. “Next time I saw him. He was that. The Captain.”

“That. Must be very confusing for you,” Bucky says, because there is way too much mind-fuckery going on in this apartment.

“You don’t look much like the man in the museum either.”

“James.” Bucky sighs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

James steps out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him. Just before it closes, he stops. “The Captain,” James says, his metal arm glinting dully in the faint light. “They told me he died two days after I did.”

“And yet, here you both are.”

“No. Here we all are.” James shuts the door softly behind him.

*

James sits against the wall behind the bed in the room The Captain has provided for him and considers the other three occupants of the apartment. The Captain has given up on thinking there is anything he can do tonight to fix this situation and is lying in his bed, pretending to sleep.

It is a useless exercise, given that The Captain requires even less sleep to operate effectively than James does, but it’s something he insists they pretend to do each night. James attempts to comply.

The Captain will ask him for a situation report in the morning. James knows better than to lie.

Steve had been sleeping soundly when James made his rounds. Bucky would probably alert them if Steve was in danger. He is an inferior weapon, but he appears to be willing to protect Steve.

To the best of his limited ability.

Steve seems to have chosen this Bucky as his Weapon. Steve never did know what was good for him.

Maybe James could convince him differently. He seems to recall that he could sometimes bring Steve around to the proper way of thinking. He just doesn’t remember how he did it. If he can, maybe they could negotiate. Maybe The Captain can keep the other Bucky, and he could return to being the weapon Steve needs.

Bucky already has the right name, and he knows how to smile at Steve like the man in the museum smiled. He could transfer that to The Captain.

As his handler, The Captain would likely prefer Bucky. He would be content to wait at home for him to return, whereas Steve wants his weapon to come with him, to serve him, and then be rewarded for his service.

Steve gives clear orders, “give me” and “apologize” and “don’t leave me.” He hasn’t required Bucky to want things, or voice his opinion. He simply tells him how to proceed, and Bucky does.

He’d even allowed Bucky to remove him from what could have been a volatile situation. No one had been fooled that Bucky was in need of sustenance, but the ruse allowed Steve to maintain his standing as Handler.

James approves of Bucky’s skill in that, at least.

If he can’t convince Steve to trade, perhaps he can give The Captain lessons.

*

Over the next couple of days, things settle into a kind of routine. Bucky goes running with Cap sometimes, mostly to get the both of them out of the house. They don’t talk much, with Cap lapping Bucky five to one around the path, but when they’re done Cap looks a little looser, a little more human.

His shoulders tighten back up on the walk, though, until he unlocks the apartment door looking like he’s headed into battle instead of his own living room.

“You seen your friend Sam lately?” Bucky asks him as they walk up the stairs.

“No, not really.”

“If that look means the same thing on you as it does on me, you probably should give him a call.”

*

Around lunch time, Steve eats a couple of carrot sticks and three bites of his sandwich.

“Not feeling it?” Bucky asks him.

Steve shakes his head. “Breakfast was good, though. Cap makes better oatmeal than I do.”

“There’s no shortage of butter,” James says. “He puts too much butter in everything now. Because he can.”

“I like butter,” Cap says.

“We know,” James replies. Then, slowly, “You almost got punched over butter once.”

“Sounds about right,” Bucky says.

Steve sticks his tongue out at him.

“No, I almost got punched because Mr. Donovan was hoarding and charging forty-two cents for butter,” Cap says, smiling. “You remember that?”

James shrugs. “Just said it, didn’t I?”

“I kinda really want a banana,” Steve says, after the silence has stretched out long enough to turn uncomfortable.

Bucky looks over to James, who is frowning at the fruit bowl.

“Fine,” James says. “But don’t blame me.”

“Well that’s not ominous,” Bucky replies.

Cap shrugs, “Go for it.”

Steve hesitantly reaches out slowly.

The last time someone peeled and ate a banana that slowly in front of Bucky, he was pretty drunk and in high school and could have probably gotten his first blow job, but Mary Elizabeth plus rum plus bananas turned out to be a truly frightening combination.

Steve finishes his first bite. James watches Steve. Bucky watches James.

“It’s fine.” Steve looks confused, then takes another, slightly larger bite.

Bucky releases the breath he’d been holding.

James looks down at the table. “Oh.”

It’s the most heartbreaking syllable Bucky’s ever heard, and he’s not even sure why.

*

In the evening, Cap leaves to take a phone call - Avengers business, not about them. When he comes back, his face is tight and he apologizes. “I’m sorry, they need me on this one.”

James stands and sheathes his knife, but Cap shakes his head. He reaches out toward James’ shoulder, but pulls back when James goes utterly still.

It reminds Bucky of Clint, and another piece of the puzzle clicks into place. Neither Cap nor James have been willing to share much about themselves with them yet, and Bucky’s sure he and Steve already know more about both of them than they’re comfortable with.

Cap looks wistfully at James before he leaves. “Just wait here, James, okay? I’ll. I’ll be back soon.”

James stands by the end of the couch for a full five minutes after Cap leaves, watching the door.

Steve is trying to break the tension by talking about James and Bucky’s similar left arms. The design of Bucky’s tattoo is nearly identical to the platework on James’ arm, even down to the star on his shoulder.

“He asked me for a nautical star,” Steve says, pointing it out to James with a small, private smile. “So I gave him one.”

“You did this to him?” James asks, his brows drawn in and his lips tight.

“Yeah,” Steve starts, proudly. “That’s my work -”

“The ink. Not the scars,” Bucky clarifies as James goes tense, his eyes darting from Bucky’s arm to Steve’s face, and down to his own left hand. “I got those … somewhere else.”

James pulls his left arm tight to his body and stands. After a moment, he walks silently to his room and carefully shuts the door.

He doesn’t visit them that night.

*

Cap changes out of his uniform and takes his time in Stark’s incredible shower. He’s avoiding going home, but he can’t help it. He’s so tired. It’s so much easier to be here, where he can get lost in the vast emptiness of Stark’s many, many unused rooms. He can feel small here. He can almost, almost breathe here.

He remembers that he’d smiled at James when he took him into Tony Stark’s tower. “We’ll get you checked out,” he’d said.

“I am operational,” James had confirmed, following him easily. “But not optimally.”

Cap was thrilled that James had told him that, trusted him enough to tell him he wasn’t feeling well. He’d tried to tell him about the rest of the team, unsure who would be at the tower at any given time.

James was treating it like a briefing, nodding after every set of facts he’d been given, like he was filing the information away to be used later. He’d tried to reassure him, “They’re a bit like the Howlies, Buck. You’ll like them.”

“Okay. I will like them.”

It went well, Cap thought, when Tony introduced himself in his particular way. It went well while he inspected the arm for any traps or drugs or malfunctions. James was able to provide an understanding of how the arm worked, and he and Stark left him behind with their one-word, multisyllabic conversation about the machinery inside.

Bucky - James - had always been better with technology than him, always checking out the latest science fiction novels from the library and keeping him company while he was sick reading to him about the far reaches of space.

It was great, the best Steve had felt in years, since he’d woken up to a false baseball game in a future he wasn’t ready for and thought, “Bucky’s going to shit himself when he sees Times Square.” Before he remembered.

Then they went into the lab.

He wasn’t sure what it was that sent James into a panic, but he’d tried to calm him. “What do you need,” and “you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, but no one’s going to hurt you.”

Each thing he said though seemed to make it worse, James’ eyes darting around, his breath coming fast and shallow. Whatever he’d said, it was the wrong thing.

That was when James stopped calling him Steve.

*

Cap comes back in the morning and brings breakfast with him. Bucky keeps nudging Steve and jerking his chin toward Cap and James’ breakfast plates.

“Knock it off,” Steve mutters, blushing.

Bucky grins, slowly takes a bite, and Steve squirms in his chair. A few minutes later, the whole process repeats itself.

James is watching them silently, still, only his eyes shifting back and forth between them.

Sometime around noon, the entire apartment seems to be on edge for no new reason. Everything feels too small and the sky is dark, grey. It feels like it’s closing in on them, trapping them together. The room is full of awkward silence and even Steve’s given up on trying to fix it.

Steve drops a glass in the kitchen and slices his finger trying to pick it up. “Shit. It’s okay, I’m. Shit!”

Bucky has to put his head between his knees to keep from passing out.

James watches him suspiciously the whole time, and it’s Cap who finally tells Steve to go get a bandaid while he cleans up the kitchen.

Bucky takes a break on the balcony, smoking with his back wedged into a corner. There’s enough room out here for a few pots. Maybe Bucky should talk to James the next time he puts his knife away. If anyone needs a soothing hobby…

“He’s my best friend,” Cap says when he comes outside and sits across from Bucky.

Bucky cracks his eyes open, squints through the smoke of his cigarette at the living room where James is watching Steve draw. Bucky’s not sure when it happened, but James doesn’t look like he wants to tuck Steve under his arm and whisk him away anymore. He looks at Steve like he holds the key to the universe, if only James could gather the courage to ask for it. Bucky’s not sure that’s any better.

Cap pulls his knees up to his chest and once again, Bucky’s hit with how similar he and Steve are. If genetics had been just a little kinder to Steve, given him an outside to match his inside. He looks back at Cap, but now he’s got his head tilted back, eyes closed against the afternoon sun. It’s too cold to be out here, but neither one of them seem inclined to move any time soon.

“I don’t think he even likes me, and he’s still my best friend.”

“You’ve been through a lot,” Bucky says.

Cap laughs sadly. “You have no idea.”

“You ever think that might be the problem?”

“I’ve tried therapy,” Cap shrugs. “I’m not really ready to try again. I don’t think I got anything out of it anyway. And James … “ Cap trails off, looking out at the street. Bucky’s pretty sure he’s seeing something that hasn’t been there for a long time.

“Were you together?”

“No,” Cap replies immediately, almost before Bucky’s finished asking the question.

“But you wanted to be.”

“I never thought about it.”

“Bullshit.”

“No,” Cap looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. “I never let myself think about it. It wasn’t like now. We could have, maybe. People did. But he deserved more than sneaking and secrets. He’d already thrown his lot in with me -”

“There are a lot worse people to be tied up with,” Bucky says, a hint of warning in his voice.

“Steve and I aren’t the same person,” Cap says, desperately.

“I know. I do know that.”

“Yeah. Well, at least one of you does.”

Bucky isn’t sure what to say to that. There are words tumbling over themselves inside his head, but he’s having trouble untangling them. Cap’s not ready to hear them anyway.

Steve catches his eye from inside. He waggles his fingers at him, smiling uncertainly. “You okay?” he mouths.

Bucky can see the bandage on Steve’s finger, smudged with pencil all the way down to his wrist. He stands up. Enough of this.

“Must be my destiny to tell Steve Rogers he can’t fix everything all by himself,” Bucky sighs. He kicks the sole of Cap’s shoe. “I also feel like I should tell you to put a hat on, because you may be built like five of him, but your cheeks turn the exact same shade of pink when you’re cold.”

*

James finally stops asking Steve if his hand is okay when he holds it out for James’ inspection. Steve’s pretty sure it’s only partially concern for him. James seems to be trying to distract himself from whatever Bucky and Cap are discussing out on the balcony. For such a large man, Cap still knows how to make himself small. Steve guesses that never really goes away.

What would it be like, to step into a machine and come out a few minutes later like that? Steve can’t think of any downside, except maybe not being able to wedge in close to Bucky, feel his arms around him when he’s spooned up behind him, surrounded by his weight and warmth.

But Steve likes being the big spoon, too. Seems like an even trade. He looks up to find Bucky watching him from the balcony. He waves. “You okay?” he mouths.

Bucky steps inside and shakes the cold off himself. Steve’s still watching him to see if he’s feeling more settled.

“Hey. Nap time.”

James says mutters something harsh and mean sounding at Bucky.

Bucky leans as close to James as Steve’s ever seen him get and speaks slowly, in a low, careful voice.

James bares his teeth, and Bucky says one more short sentence before he turns around. “Come on. Nap.”

*

Bucky shuts the door behind them, exhausted and chilled from his time outside.

"So," Steve draws out the word. "Nap time? Or nap time?"

"Really?" Bucky asks. He'd meant nap time. Actual sleep, rest, decompression. Maybe start this day over. Maybe wake up in their own lumpy mattress in their shitty studio apartment with its soothing blackout curtains and peaceful rooftop garden and chaotic shop and crazy, healthy, alive, non-murderous friends.

“You didn’t tell me you spoke Russian.” Steve shrugs, sliding his hands under Bucky’s shirt. It fits well. Too well, not soft and worn thin and stretched out a little. He jumps when they hear the front door slam.

“I have told you. Spanish is my best, but Mandarin, Russian, and a smattering of others are up in my noggin.”

“Okay, so you didn’t tell me you were so sexy when you were speaking Russian. Pay attention to me when I’m seducing you.”

“Is that what this is?”

Steve grabs Bucky’s hand and presses it against the bulge in his jeans. “What did you say?”

“It was nothing.”

“Hmm,” Steve says, stroking slowly on the outside of Bucky’s jeans. “Didn’t sound like nothing.”

“He said. Oh. He said I was sucking on cigarettes like a baby sucks on a nipple.”

“Yeah?” Steve says, dropping to his knees. “And you said?”

Bucky moans when Steve reaches in with cold fingers and frees Bucky’s erection. “I said, uh, I said it wasn’t your nipple I was planning on sucking.”

*

Cap looks over to where James is staring at Cap’s bedroom door. The door’s closed, Bucky dragging Steve off for a “nap.” Cap saw the way they were looking at each other over breakfast and throughout his conversation with Bucky. He’s not sure what that was about, but he’s pretty sure he knows a euphemism when he hears one these days.

Cap puts on some music in the living room just to be on the safe side. John Coltrane, because James likes it. Well, James did not snap the record in half the first time he heard it, which is as close to liking anything James got, until Steve showed up.

He’s trying to focus on the article Tony linked him to. It might be tangentially relevant, or it might be a joke.

There’s a muffled grunt from the bedroom and Cap clenches down on his phone.

James stabs his knife into the countertop and slams the front door on his way out.

*

James scales the building opposite The Captain’s bedroom. From the roof, he’s able to see inside, if the blinds are drawn. He’d rearranged the furniture in the room he’d been provided to make it as safe as civilian space can be, but The Captain hadn’t asked for his assistance elsewhere.

He settles on the roof, and watches as Steve kneels in front of Bucky. James recognizes this, at least in deed, although Steve appears relaxed, willing. Even when Bucky grabs at his hair and tugs, Steve goes with it. Bucky does not keep pulling until Steve’s hair comes out. He does not push forward until Steve can’t breathe.

When Steve backs off and looks up, Bucky smiles down at him. He says something that makes Steve moan and reach into his own pants, his other hand squeezing Bucky’s soft belly. Steve’s thumb dips into Bucky’s navel, and Bucky closes his eyes, his mouth falling open as Steve begins to suck him again.

James focuses on the reactions this garners. He’s intrigued by the way Bucky presses forward, pushes his stomach against Steve’s face and holds him in place. James isn’t sure why he’s doing this. He isn’t sure why Steve’s hand speeds on his own erection. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling himself grow thick and heavy as well.

Bucky cups his hand around the back of Steve’s head and James tenses. This would be a good time for Bucky to squeeze, or to twist his hand just right, let Steve drop into a heap on The Captain’s carpet.

But he doesn’t. He backs up, lies on the bed and allows Steve to follow him, stripping off the rest of his clothing and settling between Bucky’s legs again. Steve bites him from his knee up his inner thigh before Bucky threads his fingers into his hair once more and redirects him.

Steve resists for a moment, but not as if he doesn’t want to go. More like he wants Bucky to know who is in charge. As reminders go, it’s incredibly gentle, but seems to be effective. Bucky’s arm relaxes, though he doesn’t move his hand off Steve’s head.

Bucky’s talking. James can’t hear him from his perch on the neighboring roof, and he’s sloppy, words mixed with nonsense syllables that make lip reading difficult. James recognizes _love_ and _fuck_ and _Stevie, christ, baby, there, good, close_.

Bucky quickly pushes Steve away, then holds him still when he comes, splattering thickly across Steve’s face. Steve goes boneless, the opposite reaction James anticipated from him. He’s startled again when Bucky unexpectedly flips them, leaning down over Steve to suck his own mess off of him.

James is about to leave the roof, head back into the apartment, but Bucky turns his face very deliberately toward the window. James is sure he is hidden from his view, but that doesn’t stop Bucky from sending a small, smug smile in his direction.

Surely it’s a coincidence.

Steve pulls Bucky to him, spreading his hands across the expanse of Bucky’s stomach, tracing the lines of his tattoos and settling in behind him.

James leaves the roof.

*

Bucky must not have slept much since they got here, because as soon as their breath slows back down to normal, he’s out.

Steve’s being the big spoon, tracing the Brooklyn skyline across Bucky’s back. Bucky’s been talking about shading in the sky and sweeping it over his shoulder and down his pec to join into the space scene he has going on his stomach. Steve can’t wait to work on the blending, to take the stark black and white chiaroscuro of Bucky’s back piece and seamlessly move it into the supersaturated, almost neon colors in the galaxies on Bucky’s front.

He misses his shop. He wonders how much time has passed at home, if it’s the same, hour for hour, or if home is frozen without them, or if it’s somewhere in between and a week here equals a minute there, like in the old science fiction movies Bucky loves so much.

What if they get home and everyone else is ninety years old, and they’re still in their mid-twenties?

What if this is another thing he and Cap have to have in common?

Steve slides out of the bed carefully, and goes into the living room. James is there, and he smiles shyly at Steve.

“Baseball,” James says, quietly, uncertainly.

“What’s that?” Steve asks him, opening his eyes and leaning in close. Bucky’s still sleeping, and Cap’s … avoiding them, in the kitchen on his phone, talking to Tony and “researching” their situation.

“Baseball?” James says again, letting his right index finger hover a few inches above Steve’s elbow.

“Oh! Yeah, my elbows. They’re baseball seams, yeah.”

“You like baseball. We used to go. You got in trouble with the Marinelli boys because you could predict the pitches and wouldn’t run numbers for them.”

Steve smiles sadly and looks down. “James,” he says, and he hopes he does this right. “That had to be your Steve. Cap. He must have gone to baseball games with you when you were kids. You and I, we’ve never been to a game. We just met a few days ago, remember?”

James cringes and stands up. “I thought. You said. I thought it would be the same,” and then something in Russian that Steve doesn’t understand.

Steve rubs his temples and goes back to see if James woke up Bucky.

*

Cap’s spent hours one night recounting stories of their apartment together, how it was narrow and drafty and cold and how much James had hated it, even though it was a step up from where Steve had lived those last few years before his ma passed.

“You were so fussy, always so persnickety. It’s like you thought we’d move outta your parents’ home and right into a brownstone of our own. You almost cried when you realized how much money everything actually cost when you were a grown up.”

He’d laughed softly, hoping any of this would strike a chord. James had sat patiently through story hour, nodding along helpfully. The next morning, he’d been reading the financial reports on the phone Tony’d given him. He delivered a report that interest rate was holding firm over breakfast.

When he responds to the knock on his door, James is standing squarely in the frame at an approximation of parade rest. He’s told James many times he can relax, that he’s safe here, that this is his home.

“The others are sleeping, but we missed dinner,” Cap tells him. “I thought you might be hungry?” He tries to offer James a choice. He doesn’t want to assume.

James stares blankly at him, not quite making eye contact.

He sighs. “I’d really. You should probably eat something, okay?”

“Okay.”

Cap busies himself setting ingredients on the counter. “What do you want to eat? I was thinking about pancakes. Does that sound okay?”

James nods.

Cap turns to face him. “Is there a reason you won’t talk to me?”

“I talk.”

“You respond to me. I thought maybe it was your conditioning, maybe that’s just how you were now, until you felt comfortable, until you started feeling better. But you talk to Steve.”

James shrugs. “Steve would be a good handler for me.”

Cap turns back around so James can’t see the effect his words have on him. “Steve doesn’t want to be your handler.”

“I know. He has his Bucky.”

“He’s not Bucky’s handler, either. He’s his husband.”

James shrugs again. “He could be both. A sexual bond is often used to ensure loyalty. Your pancake is burning.”

Cap takes the pan off the burner and places it in the sink. “I’m not hungry anymore.,” he says quietly.

“I’ve upset you.”

Cap tries not to lie to James, so he says nothing.

“Do you think Bucky is not loyal to Steve?” he asks.

Cap tries not to hear the hope in James’ voice. “No. I think Bucky is nothing but loyal to Steve.”

“This also upsets you,” James says. “Why? Do you want him for yourself?”

“No!” Cap turns to him.

“You are a terrible liar, Captain.”

Cap pulls a chair out and drops himself into it. He pushes the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rid himself of the headache he can feel building. “Do you have to do that?”

James tilts his head in that way he has. He never used to do that. “What?”

“Call me that.”

“You asked us to.”

His eyes hurt. His throat hurts. His entire body hurts. “I asked them to. For the sake of convenience, to lessen confusion. You’ve called me that since you showed back up on my doorstep.”

James shakes his head. “You’re not him.”

“No. I’m not. And you’re not Bucky.”

James’ face contorts.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Cap stands quickly. The chair goes skittering back with a terrible noise that makes James flinch. “You’re Bucky, you are. You’re my friend, you’ve always been my friend.”

“No.” James turns slowly and definitively leaves the room.

*

The Captain calls after him, once, a soft, “Bucky. James,” that sounds like it hurts passing through his lips.

James is pleased. He wants it to hurt The Captain.

He doesn’t know how to be what The Captain needs. He doesn’t think The Captain knows what he needs. The Captain doesn’t seem to believe he needs anything, which is the only thing he has in common with the Steve James keeps safe in his head. Neither of them would ever admit to needing anything, even when it was obvious to the untrained eye that he did.

Perhaps if the Captain would be more specific. James can follow orders. Even orders he doesn’t understand.

And this, he does not understand, any more than he’s understood anything else since he showed up at The Captain’s home, needing direction, needing calibration. The Captain had told him, “come in.” He’d told him, “I’ve got you.” He’d told him, “You’re safe now.”

He’d told him that when he was feeling better he could join him and his team.

The Captain hasn’t wanted Bucky to join him on this missions, though. He tells him, “not yet.” He tells him, “when you’re ready.” He tells him, “just stay here, I’ll be back soon.”

*

“So, Tony hasn’t made any progress yet,” Cap announces tiredly over breakfast. “But he’s pretty sure it isn’t Loki, or any of the other magicians we know of.”

“Is that good news or bad news?” Bucky asks.

“I don’t know. It’s just news, I guess. He wants you to come by again though, Steve.”

“Both of us?”

“No. I guess you could both go, but he only asked for you.”

Steve looks at Bucky questioningly, but he only splits another donut in half. “You go. I got something I want to do.”

*

Steve leaves for Tony’s with a quick kiss for Bucky and a small wave to Cap and James.

James waits exactly three minutes and then disappears.

Cap looks at Bucky. Bucky looks back at Cap.

“Where’s the museum with your exhibit?”

Cap startles. “What?”

Bucky simply watches him and waits.

“Fine,” Cap sighs.

*

Steve stands outside the main doors to the tower.

After a minute, he turns around, walked two blocks back, and buys two large coffees, one black, one extra sweet, extra light. Then he heads back to the tower.

James appears next to him, and he offers up the candied coffee.

“I’ve seen you at breakfast for over a week,” he says. “And it’s how Bucky takes his.”

James takes the coffee and drinks. “You knew I was there?”

Steve smiles. “Everyone knows you have to look up.”

“Everyone does not know that,” James grumbles.

“Good thing, or you’d be out of a job.”

“I’m already out of a job.”

Steve shrugs. “So go get a new one.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“You’re a certified badass and you have connections. In any universe, that means it’s exactly that easy.”

“The Captain doesn’t want me to -”

“The Captain is not the boss of you.”

“He kind of is,” James smiles coldly. “He’s my Captain. I said I’d follow him.”

“Well. Guess you know what you need to do then, don’t you? You coming in?”

James shakes his head.

“Walk back with me, then? Instead of forty stories above and ten steps behind?”

James shrugs. “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

*

Bucky swivels his head from the exhibit, to Cap, back to the exhibit. “So that’s. Huh.”

“Yeah.”

“You doing okay?”

“No, not really.” Cap’s hiding under his baseball cap and looking anywhere but at the shrine to fallen hero James Buchanan Barnes.

“This is weird.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Let’s go.” Bucky jerks his chin toward the exit. “How often do you come here?”

“Not so much anymore.”

“Yeah. That’s probably good. Don’t come here again, okay?”

“It’s not -”

“Cap. Don’t come here again, okay?”

Cap shrugs. He looks like Steve after he’s gone a few rounds with the flu, like the only thing keeping him going is the sheer desire to prove that he can.

“I’m not one for unsolicited advice, but I’ve got what you might could call a unique perspective on things. So I’m going to share something Coulson told me once. Damn, I wish he was here.”

Cap leads the way, his shoulders hunched and his head down. “You asked after him when you first showed up here. You two are close?”

“I’m better friends with Clint, but yeah.”

Cap makes a humming sound. “He was a little. Intense. When I met him. We didn’t get too much time together, before. Everything.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine without Clint he’d be a bit of - Hey, did you and your Clint ever hook up?”

“What? No!” Cap looks scandalized.

“Huh.”

“You mean - ” Cap starts down the street toward the train station.

“Yup,” Bucky nods, following, and spreads his hands to his sides and waits until he can look Cap dead in the eye. “My husband’s hot, what can I say?”

“And popular.” Cap twists the corner of his mouth into a smile, but Bucky can see the faint blush spread across his cheekbones.

Bucky lights up outside the museum. His lungs aren’t thanking him, but at least his left hand’s steady enough to hold the lighter. “Mind?”

Cap shakes his head. “You forget where I’m from, everyone smoked. It’s still weird, men in restaurants with hats on, outside without them, no one’s smoking.”

Bucky smiles and lets Cap have his Aw Shucks moment. He knows it’s a distraction technique; Steve does it, too, when he bats his ridiculous eyelashes in his angelic little face all ‘Who, me?’ But after that horror show of a museum exhibit, Cap’s entitled to a moment to regain his bearings.

“So about, hmm, a year into this thing with Steve and me, Coulson cornered me in the alley outside Steve’s shop. Our Coulson’s kind of the group dad, I guess. Stable, rational, reasonable. Protective. I’m thinking he’s about to warn me off of Steve, right, because they were friends first. I was the latecomer to the group, trying to work my way into these years-old friendships. Wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done. Not because of them, that’s just how it is.”

Cap watches Bucky tell his story, but he’s folding his fingers together in a way Bucky recognizes. Cap knows what Bucky’s talking about from the outside, but he doesn’t have first hand experience.

Bucky presses on. “Steve made it all worth it, though, and I’d have gone through worse for him in a heartbeat. I’d kill for that kid, you know?”

Cap nods.

“Yeah. And I’m pissed, because we’d been together long enough, we’ve been through enough that Coulson should have known that. I’d been vetted, we’d had our first fight, and our second fight, one his fault, one mine. We’re serious, we’re solid, I’m gonna marry that little asshole, and Coulson chooses now to hit me with the shovel talk?

“But no. He just wants to make sure I’ve got my eyes open. You may have heard this about yourself, but Steve’s a tiny little steamroller, and even then I guess it was obvious I’d do anything for him. To make him happy. Anything.” Bucky grabs his stomach and looks pointedly at Cap.

Cap nods and the blush deepens. Not so different from Steve at all.

“I want it, too, don’t get me wrong. I like it. I really do. But I guess Coulson wanted to check that I was cool with being steamrolled.”

“Clearly you were. Are.”

“Yeah, a hundred and ten percent. But see, James doesn’t have a Coulson here. Neither do you, from what I’ve seen.”

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, this is what fine looks like on you?”

“Yes.”

Bucky grinds his cigarette out on the side of a building and pockets the butt. “You’re not the same person, but so help me you are the same fucking person. That second fight I mentioned? Also our third, fourth, and probably our fiftieth fight, those are all on Steve.”

Cap’s jaw jumps. Bucky’s hit a nerve.

“I’m not saying I’m blameless. You know as well as anyone, no one’s perfect, even when you love them,” Bucky says, meeting Cap’s eyes. “But Steve? Steve’s never wrong. Steve knows what everyone needs all the time, and by god they’d better need it Steve’s way.”

“I only need him to get better.”

“Better than what, though? Because he’s a little messed up, sure, but he seems to be doing okay. When you let him.”

“That’s not true. You only say that because you didn’t know him.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Cap. “He’s never going to be the person he was, the one you remember.”

“I know that.”

“Thing is, when you love someone, it’s hard to give them what they need. Not what you need them to need. By the way, this advice works a whole lot better if you know our Clint and Coulson, but it’s still pretty damn relevant. James doesn’t need what you need him to need. You gotta ask yourself, Cap. Steve. Were you in love with him? Or are you in love with him?”

*

It’s been a week. Bucky’s running the count in his head down to the hour, and he’s feeling too much like he did in the cave in Colombia that … He’s spending a lot more time on the balcony, is all. Looking at the sky. Breathing city air. Listening to the sounds of cars and people and everyday normality. Steve’s been trying not to hover, and Bucky appreciates what it’s costing him to restrain himself.

They come back from their semi-daily trip to Stark’s with the news that there’s still no news. Bucky’s starting to feel like a pin-cushion from all the blood they’ve drawn on him, and Steve’s had to start taking iron supplements again, which he hates because they fuck with his stomach. He hates taking his meds in general, but the not-routinely-necessary ones serve to piss him off the most. Bucky tries to bring him a glass of water first thing in the morning, before he’s even gotten out of bed. Otherwise he goes into the kitchen, and sees Cap there, looking like everything Steve thinks everyone else wants him to be, and he struggles with the childproof caps if his wrists are bothering him, and Steve and Cap are still hissing at each other like wet cats without the added rivalry.

Bucky hangs up his leather jacket and Steve heads immediately into the bathroom to take a hot shower and try to warm up. Bucky follows his nose into the kitchen. Cap’s pulling a batch of cookies out of the oven.

Fuck _everything_. "Snickerdoodles, huh?”

"Oh! Yeah, um. As a thank you."

"Thank you,” Bucky finishes with him. "Right, of course.”

"You’ve both been so good for James, he’s really. It’s helped him so much. He laughed yesterday. And you’ve been. It’s been nice to have you here. I just thought, you know. I like snickerdoodles. He would probably like them, too? And you.” Cap gestures at the tray. “Want one?”

"Thanks, but I can’t."

"Don’t you like cookies?" Cap asks.

"No, yeah, snickerdoodles are my favorites. And they smell amazing." Bucky chuckles ruefully. "Steve will like them. James too, I’m sure. But I can’t. Jesus, especially not from you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Yeah. It’s kind of a long story. Where is James?”

Cap looks up. “He went out. I figured he was trailing you.”

“He was. I just figured he’d be back by now.”

“You saw him?”

Bucky shakes his head, “He let us see him. He’s been following Steve since we got here.” He rolls his eyes.

“Does it bother you?”

“That the guy you want to be your boyfriend wants my husband to be his boyfriend? Yes. But not for the reasons you’re thinking.”

Steve comes out of the bathroom, dressed in clean clothes, flushed from the shower. His hair’s still a little damp.

“What smells so good?” He steps in under Bucky’s extended arm and freezes when he sees the cookies. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Cap made cookies. Snickerdoodles. To thank us.”

“Oh,” Steve says, staring at the plate.

“What am I missing?” Cap asks.

Steve lets out a soft little laugh. “Back before we got together, I, uh, made snickerdoodles for Bucky. As a thank you.”

“More like as a seduction,” Bucky says.

”Bucky!” Steve covers his face with his hands.

“Well, it was,” Bucky says. “Worked, too.”

“It was not, I told you.”

“Was that what this was?” James’ voice startles Bucky, who spins around, fists cocked.

James is staring at Cap, not even reacting to Bucky’s raised hand. He stands, unmoving, as Bucky unclenches his fist and slowly, carefully lowers his arm.

“No!” Cap says. “No, it was just a thank you.”

Bucky walks out to the balcony.

Steve stares longingly at the cookies, then decisively takes a handful and follows Bucky outside.

Steve stands in the doorway to the balcony, He shivers, once, the heat from his shower leaching out of him. “You, uh. You okay?”

Bucky chokes. “I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, Buck. Me too.”

Bucky slams his fist on the balcony railing.

“I know what might make you feel better.” Steve says, and Bucky turns around to face him. He holds up a handful of cookies.

Bucky shakes his head.

“Come on, it’s cold out here.”

Bucky shakes his head again.

“I’m cold. Come on.”

*

James watches the interplay between Steve and Bucky. He’s seen them do this before, but he has more intel now. The actions are following a more logical sequence.

When Bucky is upset, Steve distracts him with food. Food leads to sex. Sex makes Steve feel good. Food makes Bucky feel good.

When Steve is upset, Bucky distracts him with food. Again food leads to sex.

The Captain insists James is (was) Bucky. The Captain insists he is (was) Steve.

The Captain has attempted to make Bucky feel better with food.

The one thing both Steve and the Captain seem to take the most pleasure in is offering Bucky and James something to eat, and having them eat it. Steve’s reactions have proven to be more extreme than The Captain’s, but the Captain is far more restrained than Steve. James is far more restrained than Bucky.

Maybe this is what has been missing for The Captain. Maybe he has been waiting to feed James to the point of usefulness.

He could make The Captain look at him the way Bucky looks at Steve.

The way Steve looks when Bucky responds, “Sure, I could eat,” and pats at his ample gut when Steve suggests a meal.

The way Steve looks at Bucky in The Captain’s bedroom.

James reaches out for one of the remaining cookies. He sniffs it, rubs his fingers across the rough texture of cinnamon and sugar coating the outside. It makes him think of being warm.

“You can have one, if you want.” The Captain says from the other side of the room.

“You didn’t make them for me. You made them for them.”

“I made them for everyone.”

James puts the cookie back on the plate. “Yes.”

*

Bucky follows him inside, but only because it is cold out. “Steve,” he says warningly when he takes them straight into the bedroom.

“Come on, sit down, lay back.” Steve sets the cookies on the edge of the nightstand.

“You know I’m not going to do that.” Bucky pushes them to the far edge, as far away from him as he can without flinging them at the wall.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I think alternate universe means the rules can be bent.” He sits down on the bed, reaching out to Bucky.

“I don’t think it does. This is like me saying your sister is hot, but like, times a bajillion.”

He shuffles over behind Bucky when he sits down. Bucky laces his fingers between his knees and hangs his head.

Steve kisses the back of his neck. It should feel good.

"I don’t have a sister. I mean, I guess somewhere out there I could -“

Bucky reaches back and cuffs him on the back of the head. "You know what I meant."

"And yet, somehow, you didn’t know what I meant.”

“I knew what you meant. I’m just not gonna do it.” Bucky leans back, making Steve move away.

“Buck,” Steve starts.

“No.”

“Bucky, it’s okay. I don’t mind. I want to, I miss -”

“Steve. I don’t want to. Not with those. It’s too. It’s not right. It’s not. It’s.” Bucky can’t get a full breath.

“Okay. Okay, Bucky. Hey,” Steve kneels up behind him again and hooks his chin over Bucky’s shoulder. “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay.”

“We don’t have to,” Steve says, hugging him hard. “It’s okay.”

“You can’t fuck this better, Steve.”

"I know that. It hasn’t been easy for me, either, you know.”

“I just wanna go home.”

“Yeah, Buck. Me too.”

Bucky lies back on the bed and pulls Steve along with him. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Why do you want to go home? It’s like you’re running your own little porn kingdom out there.”

“That’s not fair,” Steve pushes back, taking his glasses from the nightstand and shoving them back on his face.

“It doesn’t have to be fair to be true.” Bucky says.

“What, you think Cap hasn’t been watching you? That he doesn’t come home from your little dates looking like you hung the fucking moon?”

“Yeah, but.”

“But what?”

Bucky shrugs. “But it’s not like he’s going to do anything about it.”

Steve laughs a little meanly. “Just another way he and I are different, I guess.”

“You’re not that different,” Bucky reaches out and trails his thumb across Steve’s jaw line. “You’re both fucking gorgeous.”

The fight drains out of Steve at that. He sits back down next to Bucky, who wraps an arm around him and tries to bury his face in Steve’s neck.

“I didn’t think I’d hate myself this much,” Steve says softly.

“You don’t hate Cap. At least, you wouldn’t if he was anyone else in the world.”

“Oh, sure,” Steve says, trailing his fingers up and down the inside of Bucky’s thigh. “And if I start making nice with him, maybe you can make nice with him, too?”

“There’s my boy, always coming up with brilliant ideas,” Bucky pulls Steve on top of himself as he lays back.

“Have you thought about it?” Steve asks, pushing himself to sitting straddling Bucky’s hips.

"Not really.” Off Steve’s look, he amends, “Well, I mean, sure, but I haven't thought thought about it."

"But you would."

"No," Bucky says, but he isn't looking at Steve.

"Come on, Buck. When else are you gonna get the chance to fuck me in that body?"

"I don't wanna fuck you in that body," Bucky says, thrusting his hips up sharply to illustrate his point.

"Please," Steve says, sitting back and balancing easily as Bucky settles back down. He crosses his arms.

"Steve, you dumb shit, I like fucking you in your body."

"But," Steve leads him on, his fingers digging into Bucky’s belly.

"But I wouldn't mind fucking Cap in his body."

Steve grinds down. "Right?"

"You too?" Bucky wrestles Steve out of his shirt.

"I know. It's weird. It's seriously weird, right?"

"It's not weird.” Bucky pulls Steve down by the back of his neck and licks at Steve’s nipple.

"Bucky."

"It's a little weird."

"But you wanna fuck James, too, right?"

Bucky stops sucking. "I ..."

Steve covers his face with his hands, "Jesus, Bucky, please don't tell me it's just me who wants to get it on with his wacky alternate self."

Bucky smiles, the bites at Steve’s jaw. "No. It's not just you. I, uh, I don't know what it is."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Bucky rolls them over, bracing himself on his elbows above Steve, letting his stomach press lightly into down onto Steve. He takes a deep breath. "I mean, what I'd want to do with James might be a little closer to a Clint and Coulson type thing. Only, less nice. And more. Not nice."

"You want to beat him up," Steve says.

Bucky nods.

"And then fuck him?"

Bucky nods again. "I'm sorry."

"That. That might be one of the hottest things I've ever imagined. You need to put your dick in me right now."

"Really?"

Steve shrugs, working his hands first on his own jeans, then Bucky’s.”If James would be into it.”

“He’d be into it.”

Steve laughs, wiggling out of his pants. “Your confidence is the sexiest thing about you. And we both know Cap’s not gonna do it.”

“He wants to.”

“He doesn’t know what he wants. No, he does,” Steve corrects himself, pulling the lube they’d bought the other day out from under the mattress. “He wants to bury his head in the sand and pretend it’s a hundred years ago and nothing ever changes.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Yes.”

“Stevie, he’s got nothing.”

“James is right there. Maybe we should buy them a dental chair. Here, fast, I want to feel it. Now.”

“Aye aye, Cap’n.”

“Bucky,” Steve whines.

“Inappropriate, I’m sorry.” Bucky flips the cap to the bottle open.

“Don’t confuse the two of us just yet. At least I had the balls to go after the dick I wanted.” He pulls his knees under him and props his forehead on his arms so he can watch Bucky work him open.

“You ran away from my dick,” Bucky says, smoothing his hand down Steve’s back.

“Didn’t!”

He leans to the side and Steve meets his eyes. “Twice!”

“Well, your dick came with all these feelings and emotions.”

“Damn straight.” Bucky nods and slowly pushes his fingers into Steve.

“Oh, oh good, like that. It-it really knocked me off my game.”

“And you say you have nothing in common with Cap.”

“Shut up, shut up. I’m ready. Now stop talking about them unless you plan on telling me how you’re going to hold James down and fuck him while you suck me off.”

“Oh, that sound good to you, baby? That’s what you want?” Bucky’s voice drops lower as he fingers Steve open. “You want me on my back, James riding me? You want to kneel down over my face and let me lick you open?”

“ _Jesus_ , yes.”

“You want James to pinch your sweet little nipples? While Cap kisses you? Licks into your mouth like I’m gonna lick into your ass? His big hands on you, jerking you off? His rhythm matching mine while I jerk James? While he rides me?”

Steve can’t do anything but moan, a long, low sound that goes straight to Bucky’s dick. Bucky pulls his fingers out and lines himself up.

“Mm, yeah. Who do you want to fuck you first, babe? When you’re all wet and open from my tongue?” Bucky pushes inside, inch by inch, his grip tightening on Steve’s hips to hold him still when he tries to push back. “You wanna wait til I’ve made James come all over your back? You want me to rub it in, pull out of him and come on you, too? Mark you all up? Make you belong to both of us?

“Fuck, Bucky, _fuck_ , yes,” Steve pants.

“Yeah? You want Cap to spin you around? Shove that thick cock into you? You wanna get your mouth back on James, suck him till he’s hard for you again? How long you’d think it’d take, Stevie? How long do you think he could take your sweet pink lips on his dick before you got him hard again?”

Steve’s arms are trembling from the effort of holding himself up. “You. What. What about you?”

“Mm, don’t you worry about me, babe. I’m gonna be right there, watching you get it from both ends. You’d be so hot, Steve. _Fuck_ , baby, you’re the prettiest thing I ever seen, gonna get to see you fall apart, gonna get to see you make Cap fall apart.”

“Close,” Steve whines. “More.”

“Bet Cap only comes with permission. What do you think?”

Steve moans and clenches down hard. Bucky thrusts faster, adjusting his grip on Steve’s hips. He reaches across Steve’s chest and pulls him to his chest, his belly rubbing against his back. He twists his hips to change the angle until Steve gasps out, “There, Buck, right, fuck, right there.”

“Bet he’d hold back, wouldn’t he? He’d wait, shaking and biting his lip til you said it was okay. Bet you could make him hold off for hours, ‘til he was sobbing with the effort of waiting.”

“You say it. Bucky, you say it.”

“You want me to tell him it’s okay? Want me to lean over, tell him?”

“Now, say it, say it now.”

Bucky presses his lips to Steve’s shoulder. Just before he bites down, he whispers, “Come for me, Stevie.”

*

Steve's hands are aching and his wrist is well and truly fucked. Maybe if he got Cap to give him a blood transfusion. Maybe that'd vita his rays and give him just one body part that works.

"How many times a day do people tell you they'd kill for your body?" Steve grumbles as he reaches into the fridge for some juice.

Cap makes a face like he's about to sneeze.

"Oh. That was probably insensitive," Steve says, rubbing his wrist. He takes a long drink while Cap sits at the table. He has his tablet and a legal pad, but Steve knows from frustrated doodling, and that’s all that’s happening here.

“Little bit, considering how frequently it’s actually happened.” Cap taps the end of his pencil rapidly against the paper.

“Might have something to do with bouncing around town in spandex drawing attention to yourself.”

“You’re really hung up on that, aren’t you?”

Steve shrugs. He’s finished his juice, but he’s not about to leave the kitchen like this.

“Maybe you’re forgetting I know all your tells,” Cap says off-handedly.

“You think we’re so alike?”

“Maybe not so much.” Cap shrugs his enormous shoulders.

“Yeah. Not anymore, I guess,” Steve shrugs back, rolling his shoulders so the shirt he’s wearing slides down. He knows there’s a beautiful impression of Bucky’s teeth there, which should just now be turning a deep, dark red. Impossible to miss.

Cap looks away, down at his pad. “You’ve made your point. To both of us. We get it. I didn’t think I’d have to threaten to turn the hose on you. He’s been through enough -”

“He is not fragile,” Steve says slowly.

“You don’t know. You have no idea what happened to him.”

“Fuck you.”

“What?”

“Fuck you for thinking James needs fixing. He’s … he needs help, he needs love, but he sure as hell doesn’t need whatever the fuck it is you’ve been giving him.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do.”

“What, you’re just going to trade one in for the other?”

“No,” Steve says coolly. “Maybe I’ll just take them both home with me.”

Cap flinches.

Steve leans into Cap’s space. “And trust me, once you drive him away, I’ll make sure he won’t want to come back.”

*

“Cap? You seen Steve?” Bucky asks, walking into the kitchen in just his jeans.

Cap draws his eyes away from Bucky’s stomach. “No. He, uh. We had words and he left. I think James is tailing him.”

“Huh. Should we be worried?”

“I’d think you’d know better than anyone how tough he is.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I don’t know.” Cap rubs his eyes. “Does Steve has asthma?”

“Um, yeah. Pretty bad. He’s got a couple of medications for it. They keep him pretty on top of it.”

“Does he talk to you about it?”

“Not really. He’s not too big on the whole sharing his burdens thing, you might have noticed.”

Cap looks pained and then says, “It’s not the attacks. Those are terrible, don’t get me wrong. But those come, and they go, and then you think they’re over, right?”

Bucky nods.

“You go back to sleep, or go on about your day, and you forget about breathing until the next attack. For him? He can never forget about breathing. He can’t stop thinking about it. It’s too easy to breathe, something must be wrong. It’s too hard to breathe, something must be wrong. It’s been too damn long I need to take a deep breath, how hard is it going to be this time? It never ends. It never ends and he can’t. Stop. Thinking about it.”

Cap relaxes his grip on the counter’s edge and closes his eyes.

“That sounds exhausting.”

“I’ve been exhausted for ninety years,” he laughs brittly. “I thought, when they gave me the serum and I took that first breath. Everything hurt. I’d just grown a foot and a half and gained a hundred fifty pounds of muscle, everything hurt. But it hurt so differently than I’d always hurt before that it was like nothing hurt at all. Does that make sense?”

Bucky nods.

“And I thought that was it, I was big and strong now, I’ll never hurt again.”

“That’s not how it works,” Bucky says softly, rubbing at his left arm. He reaches out and squeezes Caps shoulder. It’s hard as a rock from tension, so Bucky squeezes again, a little higher, where Cap’s neck is equally as tense.

 Cap’s eyelids flutter closed. “But I just traded one hurt for another, and then another, and then another, and it’s so much worse than before, because now I know the difference.”

 "I know,” Bucky says softly.

 “I just want it to stop,” Cap whispers.

 “I know,” Bucky says again. “I know.” He leans in, tugs Cap around and holds him close. It’s been a while since he’s hugged someone taller than him, and it takes him a moment to adjust his posture, but between one moment and the next, Cap crumbles, his breath hitching almost silently.

 It doesn’t take long, only a handful of minutes before Cap straightens back up, runs the back of his arm over his eyes.

 “Thank you.”

 “You needed it.”

 Cap shrugs.

 “You probably could get more of that, if you wanted.”

 “I don’t think Steve would appreciate that. He can be a little jealous.”

 “Like a dragon with his fucking gold,” Bucky agrees. He looks around dramatically, then stage whispers, “Deep-rooted insecurity issues, if you ask me.”

 Cap smiles tiredly.

 “Nah,” Bucky says. “Steve wouldn’t mind. We talked it out”

 “That’s. You did?”

 Bucky shrugs. Slowly, he says, “That’s what you do. When you want to be. In a relationship. With someone.” He thumps Cap on the forehead. “But I didn’t mean from me.”

 Cap shakes his head. “I don’t want to ask him to do anything he doesn’t want to do. He’s been used enough.”

 “You can’t see that he wants to be used? Useful? Like you are?”

 “I don’t want him to be like I am. This is -” Cap gestures at his shield. “This is all I have anymore.”

 “He’s a soldier, Cap. Like it or not. And now he doesn’t even have that. When it was me? It was cheeseburgers or my revolver. One of them was going in my mouth.”

 “Fuck, Bucky, don’t talk like that.” Cap grabs him and hugs him again, like he can crush the bad thoughts out of him.

 Bucky stays still and lets Cap hold him. “I’m good now. I am. Because I found something that made me okay.”

 “Steve.”

 “No.” Bucky pulls back. He needs to make sure Cap hears him on this one. “I found a club. And a shop where I could sort things, and fix things and help clean up. And I started a garden. Took a cooking class. Found music that sounded good, and food that tasted good, and things that started to feel good again. If I hadn’t done that, there wouldn’t be anything there for Steve.”

“You make it sound easy,”

“The fuck it was. But it was a hell of a lot easier than trying to do everything by yourself. How many times do I have to hit you two over the head with it?”

Cap lets out a wet little laugh. “No fair, Steve got a head start on me.”

“Cap, I can pretty much guarantee your James was telling you this same shit for years. Come on. You know a good boxing gym around here anywhere?“

*

“I want one,” James says, and sits down next to Steve.

Steve blinks. Bucky came home by himself, loose and sweaty, saying only that Cap was out getting some ‘me time.’ “When he comes home, fix this,” Bucky said, then he kissed him and went to shower.

“Jesus you startled me.” Steve reaches to playfully smack his arm, but James jerks out of the way. “Oh, sorry, I wasn’t going to hurt you.”

James gives Steve a withering look.

“What? I could.”

He hold his metal hand up, palm facing Steve. “You’re on the left.”

“Oh. Well then, thank you.”

James nods, once. “You - he. He broke his finger once. Right here,” James rubs the first knuckle of Steve’s right index finger. “He punched Bobby Thomlinsson for harassing a bunch of socialists. Then he went and tried to talk me into joining them.”

“The more things change,” Bucky mutters, walking by and patting both Steve and James on the head.

James jerks his hand back into his lap. “Then he wouldn’t shut up about being bored and not able to draw. I want one,” he says again.

“One … what?”

“I forget the words in English sometimes,” James says softly brushing his fingers over his collarbone. Then, even softer, “I think it makes The Captain sad.”

“I think you calling him The Captain makes him sad,” Bucky says, sitting down on James’ other side.

James sighs. “What doesn’t make The Captain sad?” He pulls back. Steve doesn’t get sad when Bucky speaks in different languages. He can smell the warm lingering scent of Steve’s shampoo on his left and feel the heat from Bucky on his right. He’s finding it hard to focus. “Tattoo. I want one.”

“Okay, do you know what you want?’

James shakes his head, but then, “Have you seen pictures of The. Of Captain? And me, when I was. Before?”

Steve nods.

“We used to have the same thing. It was. Here.” James picks up his phone and pulls up a picture of Cap in uniform. “This.” He taps on Cap’s head, enlarging the picture. “It was on my coat. Before. I want it back.”

“Oh,” Steve looks from the picture to James and back. “James, have you thought -”

“That’s a great idea,” Bucky interrupts.

“You know my rules,” Steve says, leaning around James to look at Bucky.

“Your rules don’t apply here.”

“Oh, your cookie rule is still in play, but my lifelong ban on tattooing names on people isn’t?”

“It’s not a name,” James says, staring straight ahead and letting the argument happen around him.

“I know that. It’s worse,” Steve says.

“It was mine,” James says. “I want it back.”

“It. James,” Steve starts gently.

“Steve, let him do this,” Bucky says.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Steve says as the door opens and Cap walks in. Steve pushes his fingertips under his glasses and rubs at his eyes.

“What’s not a good idea?” Cap asks.

“I want a tattoo and Steve doesn’t want me to have one.”

“That’s not true,” Steve says.

“Ask him what he wants, Cap,” Bucky interrupts, sliding slightly closer to James.

“Oh. Do you know what you want?”

James nods. He holds his phone out to Cap.

Cap takes it from him gently, then stares at the enlarged, slightly pixelated close-up of his uniform helmet.

“Remember?” James asks him softly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Cap looks up from the phone. “You hated that coat.”

“I did not.”

“You did. It was always damp and smelled like three day old socks.”

“I loved that coat. It was the warmest coat I ever owned. I’d have given it to you if you’d still needed it. That’s how warm it was.”

Cap stares at him for a minute. Bucky slowly stands up and for once, Steve follows him without question when they carefully, quietly leave the room.

“This is what you want?”

James nods.

“Why?”

“I. They can’t take it away from me.”

Cap feels his breath catch. It’s a long moment when he’s not sure if his stomach’s going to stop turning over before he says, “I like it. Do you know where?”

James swallows audibly. His voice is rough when he replies, “Where do you think it’ll look good, Captain?”

*

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea,” Steve says, closing the door to the bedroom.

Bucky shushes him. “In this case, I’m telling you you’re wrong, and you’re going to listen to me and stay out of it.”

Steve waves him off. “But what happens when they break up?”

“They’re not going to break up.” Bucky reaches out and pulls him into a tight hug.

He squirms out of it. “You don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

“I can, and I do. Us, them. It doesn’t matter, babe. We belong together. We just do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but he’s wearing a sweet, soft smile. “You’re such a fucking romantic.”

“Fuck off, you love me.” He flops down on the bed. “Now get over here and suck my dick.”

“Such a fucking romantic,” Steve laughs.

*

“You complete asshole, you saw the first night game?” Steve takes the soapy dish from Cap and rinses it before setting it in the drainer. He’s been making an effort to be more sympathetic since the blow-up. Cap seems to have forgiven him, so Steve’s counting it as a win.

Bucky and James exchange an amused look. Bucky’s telling him about his rooftop garden back home, curbing his growing anxiety about maybe never getting back to it.

 "Well, yeah. Not the first ever, but the first one with the Dodgers. Bucky - James - took me as an early birthday present. We got trounced by the Reds, the bums."

 “You couldn’t breathe all week and hid it from me until the third inning,” James says softly. “Thought you were turning allergic to peanuts or something.”

 “You yelled at me.”

 “Half the time all we could afford was peanut butter, you jerk, how the fuck was I going to feed you if you couldn’t eat peanut butter?”

 “It was pneumonia, wasn’t it?” Steve asks.

 “Yeah.”

 “Yeah. Third inning, against the Reds. But the Yankees for me.”

 “Damn shame,” Cap and Bucky say at the same time.

 “Doesn’t anyone like football anymore?” Bucky asks.

 James slams his right hand across Bucky’s mouth. “He will lecture you. For hours. Please don’t. I’ve been recently traumatized.”

 James pulls his hand away from Bucky’s mouth. “Did you just lick me?”

 “Yeah. He does that,” Steve laughs.

 Cap watches Steve dry the dishes and interrogate him about the baseball of his youth, sharing some of the games he remembers that Cap missed. The enthusiasm he’s got, looking up (and up) at Cap, prompting him to tell him more about this game or that play or what it was really like.

 Cap finds himself pulling his gaze away from Steve’s lips, pale and pink and full. He can see the faint hint of fading beard burn on his neck. Bucky’s as lazy about shaving as James is. He wonders if the bite mark is still there. If it’s faded to a bruise. If Bucky licks over it when they go to sleep. Like he’d licked James’ hand.

 Cap focuses, scrubbing a plate a little too hard. He shouldn’t be having thoughts like this. Not about himself. He knows better. Because Steve’s no prize. At least, he wasn’t when he was like him.

 But Steve’s not him, is he?

 He definitely shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about Bucky. He’s someone else’s husband.

 Neither of them have expressed any interest in him, anyway. James, certainly. Maybe when that happens, Cap can get his own bed back.

 “I’m hungry, Captain,” James says.

 Cap drops a glass back into the full sink. “What?”

 “I. I’m hungry?” James says. He’s stopped smiling, pulling into himself and holding incredibly still.

 “Oh. Right. Um,”

 “Steve. We’ve got that thing, remember?” Bucky says, leaving the kitchen with Steve in tow.

 “Where are we going?” Steve asks, hopping on one foot, trying to get his shoes on while Bucky shoves him out the door.

 “Out.”

 *

 “So we don’t know what caused it,” Tony says.

 “But you think it’s going to happen again soon?”

 “When you got here, the levels were elevated. Then they normalized. Now they’re going back up.” Dr. Foster says.

 “We hadn’t really seen them before, so we didn’t know to be looking for them,” Dr. Banner tries to explain. Like it’s his fault it took a little under two weeks to figure out why Steve and Bucky went universe-hopping.

 “So we could be dying, we could be going home, or we could end up leaping into a completely different universe, trying to put right what once went wrong.”

 Stark shrugs. “I don’t know. But if you’ve got anything you want to do while you’re here. You’ve got maybe seventy-two hours to do it. Or you don’t.”

 *

 When he left the Tower, he stopped and bought coffees again. He waited for James to appear out of the shadows and come with him while he walked off his frustration.

 “Of all the times for Bucky not to come with me.”

 “You’re leaving.”

 Steve shrugs. “They think so.”

 “How long?”

 “Three days, maybe.”

 James nods.

 ‘If you still want your tat, though, I found a shop that’ll rent me their chair for an hour. Shouldn’t take long.”

 James nods again.

 They finish the walk home in silence.

 “We need music,” Steve says, unlocking the door and waiting for James to enter the apartment.

 James gestures at the shelves. “The Captain has some.”

 “Do you like it?”

 James opens his mouth and closes it again without saying anything. He looks around the room and then shakes his head.

 “I’ve got an idea. Give me your phone.”

 James hands over his phone without question.

 “This is … not, um,” Steve says, turning it over in his hand. He sees the Stark Industries logo on the back and laughs. “Of course. Okay, so, good, here,” Steve mutters, scrolling through and quickly picking up how to use the phone. “Damn, this is the most user friendly … Here!”

 He looks up at James. “Okay, so I don’t have any headphones and I don’t see speakers so this isn’t going to sound exactly right, but it’ll do.”

 He pushes a button and then immediately pushes it again. He reaches out to put his hand on James’ arm. “Listen, if any of this makes you feel, you know, not okay? Like in your head or your heart or your body? You have to let me know right away.”

 James pulls away and gives Steve a dark look. “I’ll be fine.”

 “No, seriously. You think so, but music’s weird like that. Sometimes it does things to people. My buddy Clint? He’s a certified badass. Like Bucky and you. But he can’t listen to anything by Coheed and Cambria without freaking right the fuck out. So it’s okay, okay? Just tell me.”

 James nods.

 They make it four songs in before James freezes and says, “That one, make it stop. I don’t like it.”

 Steve immediately skips to the next song. “Sure. Try this one.”

 Three songs later, James ask Steve, "Can you dance?"

 "Me?" Steve asks, looking up from James's phone. "No, I can't. I mean, I can keep time in a waltz if I have to, but I'm not. No. I'm not a dancer."

 "I used to dance.”

 “Yeah?”

 James nods. “I remember, sometimes. Different girls. But they weren’t. It was just for fun.”

 “The last time I danced with a girl I was twelve. And the girl was my gym teacher.”

 James smiles slightly before looking at his lap again. “The Captain can dance. I've seen him."

 "That's good."

 "No. When he was you," James shakes his head, frustrated. "When he was smaller. When he was. The Steve in my head, he couldn't dance. I tried to teach him, but it didn't ... work." James doesn't know why, but something that feels like guilt curls low in his belly.

 Steve bites his lip. “Let me show you something.” He stands up. “Come on, get up. Get up.”

 James pushes himself to his feet.

 “Okay, now remember, this is supposed to be fun, not for hurting you, okay?”

 James’ lips curl upwards. Before he can respond, Steve interrupts. “Don’t fucking say it.”

 James nods at Steve, but he’s still smiling.

 Steve pushes the button on the phone again, and bounces on his toes in time with the opening of a song. When the guitars kick in and the singer roars, Steve throws himself into James, leading with his side.

 James cups his shoulders and holds him steady.

 “No.” He backs up. “No, that’s what you’re supposed to do,” Steve braces himself with his weight evenly on both feet. “Now you.”

 James sways gently into Steve’s side.

 “Harder, come on, listen to the song!”

 James pushes his side more firmly into Steve.

 “That’s it, more.” Steve laughs, and slams himself into James again.

 James waits for the downbeat and twists his body into Steve’s, hard.

 Steve stumbles and falls to the floor. “Perfect!” he shouts, and jumps back up, using James’ hand to help himself.

 James looks at his flushed, smiling face and holds him steady. He bends down and kisses him, soft, sweet, just a brush of lips.

 “Oh,” he says when he leans back.

 “James. No.”

 James’ eyes close, his expression shuttered. “I’m sorry.”

 “I’m with Bucky.”

 “I know. That’s how it felt when I tried to teach him.”

 “You can’t kiss me. Not when Bucky’s not here. Not when Cap’s not here.”

 “I know. I’ll be -” James starts, glancing toward his room with a panicked look.

 “You don’t have to go.”

 “I don’t want to dance anymore.”

 “No. No I think we’re done dancing,” Steve smiles weakly at him. “But you don’t have to go. I’m. I’m going to make some cookies. Bucky likes cookies. I’m going to make him some cookies.”

 *

 Steve’s taking the last batch out of the oven when Cap and Bucky come home from their run.

 “Wow, every time I come in, someone’s baked me something,” Bucky announces, stopping in front of Steve and kissing him on the top of his head. “Those for me?”

 “Yup.”

 “How’s everything here?” Cap asks.

 James backs up until he’s against the wall nearest the doorway. He hasn’t said anything yet, but he’s staring just inches to the left of Cap’s face. Cap turns but there’s nothing behind him.

 “Good,” Steve holds a cookie out for Bucky, then offers one to Cap. “We listened to some music and talked about dancing and I taught him to mosh, sort of, and James kissed me and we made some chocolate chip cookies.”

 Cap chokes.

 “Hmm.” Bucky tilts Steve’s head back and leans in, the light glinting off his lip ring, Steve’s tongue peeking out when Bucky deepens their kiss. When he backs off, Steve looks a little dazed. “Yeah. Well, that was only a matter of time.”

 Cap and James are staring at them with identical expressions of want on their faces.

 “So, I’m tired. You tired, Stevie?”

 Steve nods.

 “Say goodnight, Steve.”

 Steve nods again, and waves half-heartedly at Cap and James. “Night.”

 *

 “Three days?” Bucky asks.

 “Give or take. But Bucky, maybe not. They don’t really know.” Steve tells him.

 “Are you excited?”

 Steve shrugs.

 “Yeah. Me too.”

 “We have to make sure they’re okay, Buck. We can’t leave them and let them go back to how they were. It’ll kill them.”

 “I know.”

 “It’ll _literally_ kill them.”

 “I know, Steve.”

 *

 “You kissed Steve.” Cap’s looking anywhere but at him.

 James nods. “I’m sorry.”

 “Why?”

 “I was ... confused.”

 “About what?”

 “It wasn’t Steve I wanted to be kissing. No. I did want to kiss him. But I wanted it to be you, too.”

 Cap looks away. “I know he looks like me the way you remember me. But he’s not me.”

 James slams his hands against the table. “That’s not what I’m saying. Why don’t you trust me to know my own mind? Do you think I need calibration? Do you think I’m becoming erratic? Do you want to put me in the chair until I’m docile and easily contained?”

 “James, no! I’d never. No one will ever do that to you again.”

 “Then why won’t you believe me? The words don’t come easily, but I know this. I know what I want. I want to help you, like you promised. I want to do something good, with my life, like you promised. I want you to be with me, like you promised!”

 James’ eyes are wet. “I wanted to kiss Steve, that Steve. The Steve we have. And I wanted to kiss you. This you. The you that you are.”

 Cap grabs him by his shoulders and slams their mouths together. It’s harsh and rough and not at all what their first kiss should be.

 It’s perfect.

 *

 James is wary of the chair at first. Cap squeezes his hand.

 “If we had more time, I could find a different set up, but.” Steve says. “You could always wait. I could give you some names. I don’t know if they’re artists here. For all I know Quill here is on a fucking spaceship or something.”

 “No. I want it from you. It has to be you.”

 “It’s just a chair, James,” Bucky says. “Hey, come here.” Bucky draws him over to the corner of the shop. He leans in and talks to him softly. Steve grins.

 “What’s he telling him?”

 “Probably about the time I fucked him in the chair,” Steve says. Cap blushes so fast Steve’s afraid he’s going to pass out.

 The shop owner, who so far has been watching raptly but unobtrusively, calls out, “Right on, man. But not here.”

 “No guarantees,” Bucky tells him with a good-natured smile.

 James takes a deep breath and settles down in the chair. Just like Steve said, it doesn’t take long to outline the simple design on James’ right bicep.

 “I’m going to start now. You need a break, you tell me.”

 James nods. “Just like the music.”

 “That’s right. Just like the music.”

 When he’s finished, and James is admiring Steve’s work in the mirror, Steve looks at Bucky. Bucky nods. Steve pulls James’ face down and kisses the hell out of him, right there in the tattoo shop. Cap looks away.

 “Hey, no,” Bucky says, and laces his fingers with Cap’s. “You’re here, too.”

 “I -”

 “You’re here, too,” Bucky tells him.

 *

 It doesn’t take long before the four of them are tumbling through the door to Cap’s apartment, tangled up with each other.

 “Be careful, be careful!” Steve laughs when Cap grabs James by his shoulders to drag him forward into a kiss. “He’s going to be sore, don’t mess up my work.”

 “I’m not sore,” James says.

 “It’s beautiful work,” Cap says.

 “Steve’s the best. His time’s booked solid for the next year, James. You don’t know how lucky you got,” Bucky says, pulling Steve back to him and nuzzling into his neck.

 “I do know,” James says softly.

 “No, not fair, not fair, get over here,” Steve says, making grabby hands at James while Bucky laughs into his neck.

 “Why?” James glances nervously between Steve and Bucky.

 Bucky looks up and backs away from Steve, raising his eyebrows.

 “Oh,” James says, and comes to stand in front of Steve. “How should I -?”

 “He wants to be sweet on you, James,” Cap tells him.

 James shakes his head. “He has his Bucky for that.”

 “Okay, no. No, nope, no. Sit.”

 James immediately sits. On the floor in front of Steve.

 Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “James, no, come on.” Steve scratches his nails through James’ hair. “Let’s talk.”

 *

 “We don’t,” Cap starts, then looks to James. James is still sitting on the floor at Steve’s feet. Steve’s still running his fingers through James’ hair. Both of them look utterly content. Cap’s not sure if he should keep talking or if he should just keep his concerns to himself, let Steve and Bucky and James take care of each other for a while.

 Bucky’s sitting at the other side of the sofa, his arm stretched out along the back, his legs spread comfortably. He doesn’t seem to be concerned with the situation playing out between his husband and his other self, though he is watching them, shifting and reaching down to subtly adjust himself every so often.

 Cap clears his throat and continues. “We don’t want to get in the middle of you two.”

 “So to speak,” Bucky says.

 Cap gives Bucky a dirty look.

 Bucky shrugs. “You’re not going to cause any problems.”

 “So what, the two of you just go around, doing. Doing this? With your friends?” Cap double takes. “Oh my god, you said. Clint, you said.”

 Steve laughs and it makes him tug slightly on James’ hair. James moans. Bucky shifts incrementally in his place on the sofa.

 “Sorry, buddy,” Steve leans down and kisses James on the top of his head. “No. We do not have an open marriage. We do not have an arrangement. I haven’t had sex with Clint in seven years, and Bucky’s never done it.”

 “So we’re just special?” Cap asks, voice full of disbelief.

 “Yes,” Bucky says simply.

 Cap looks down at his hands.

 “We don’t want to get in the middle of you two, either,” Bucky says.

 “You’ve got something special, here,” Steve says, pulling his hand out of James’ hair.

 James frowns. “Don’t you want to?”

 “No, of course we do,” Bucky tells him.

 “Of course?” Cap asks.

 Bucky levels a steady look at him. “Yes.”

 “James knows his own mind,” Cap says. James smiles at him, sweet and shy.

 “Wait,” Steve says. Three sets of eyes turn to him.

 “James, you want this?”

 He waits for James’ nod.

 “Bucky?”

 “Hell yes.”

 Steve stands up and walks over to stand in front of Cap. “And I’m down, obviously. But Cap. You. It’s not about what we want.” Steve slashes his hand through the air when Cap tries to speak. “Shut up, you know what I mean. I know you know what I mean. But me and Bucky, Cap, we’re good, we’re complete. This would be fun, and it would mean something to both of us, I know it would. But it’s not necessary. It’d be fun, and trust me when I tell you that, hypothetical or not, we will be discussing this at bedtime for many, many years to come.”

 “Hell yes,” Bucky repeats. He’s slid over on the couch to take up scratching at James’ scalp when Steve left off.

 “But what about what what you want?”

 Cap reaches out for Steve. “I.”

 Steve steps back and shakes his head. “Need your words, Cap.”

 “Come on, Cap,” James says, he crawls over to him. “Tell us. It can be you and me, Bucky and Steve. We can go to my room, send them to yours. We can stay out here and watch.” James licks his lips. This is the most he’s spoken in … ever. “You can kiss that shit-eating grin off your own smug, stupid face,” James says. “You just gotta tell us.”

 “So that’s a trait you have in any universe,” Steve whispers to Bucky.

 “Yeah,” Cap says. “I want. I want this.”

 James surges up to kiss him, and Bucky pulls Steve around to face him, giving the other two some distance to get this out of the way.

 “Hey, what about the way you wanted it,” Steve asks him, softly.

 “Not this time. Not at first.” Bucky shakes his head. ‘We got forty-eight hours left, give or take. Maybe it’ll happen. Maybe not.”

 “You okay with that?”

 Bucky nods his head toward Cap and James, and Steve turns. Bucky kisses back down the line of Steve’s neck, sliding his hands under his shirt. Cap is clutching James to him like he might disappear, one hand working into the back of his waistband.

 “I never, I never thought. We can have this now, we can, we can,” Cap’s repeating, his voice broken.

 “Come on,” Bucky leads Steve out of the room.

 “But - “

 “We’ve got time.”

 *

 Cap knocks on the doorframe to his bedroom. Bucky leans up over Steve, who burrows into his side with an unhappy little sound. Bucky smoothes his hand down Steve’s back and raises his eyebrow at Cap.

 “Sorry, we, uh.”

 “Left us hanging?”

 Cap smiles bashfully. “Yeah.”

 “‘S’okay. We figured out a way to entertain ourselves.”

 “You’re good at that.”

 “We know how to make do.”

 *

 “I want,” James starts, pulling out a chair across from Bucky at the table.

 Steve’s showing Cap the best tattooing equipment online, making him a list of reputable vendors and things to watch out for. Bucky thinks it’s casual interest, but Steve doesn’t know how to do anything casually. Who knows? Cap needs a fucking hobby, too.

 Bucky waits for James to continue, but he doesn’t seem inclined to. “Wanting’s hard,” he says.

 James nods.

 “So many decisions.”

 James nods again.

 “That’s why you took to Steve so fast, isn’t it.?”

 “Partially. The physical resemblance helped.”

 Bucky laughs. “He’s a bossy little shit. It’s one of the reasons I love him so much.”

 “One of?”

 “Listen, if you want me to make a list, we’re going to be here all day.”

 James looks away. Bucky can see a faint hickey on the side of his neck. “You take care of him, though.”

 “Much as he lets me,” Bucky tells him.

 “It’s not easy.”

 Bucky shakes his head. “Probably worse for you. At least mine understands that he does, in fact, have some physical limitations. What is it you want?”

 “Cap wants to take care of me.”

 ‘Of course he does.”

 “Like Steve takes care of you.”

 “We call that love, James.”

 “There’s. There are other kinds, though. I know there are. I wasn’t used that way, but I did have to be familiar with many forms of interpersonal relationships to ensure efficient elimination of-”

 “I get it,” Bucky stops him.

 “Sorry.”

 “Little too close to home, there, James. You need to find someone to talk to, by the way.”

 “But not you.”

 Bucky nods. “Not me.”

 “For the rest of it, though?” James asks.

 Bucky nods again. “I know what you’re talking about. I don’t usually go in for that.”

 “Not usually,” James says. He watches Bucky curiously for a moment. “I watched you, you know.”

 “I know.”

 “When you were angled right, I could read your lips. Not well. But well enough.”

 Bucky leans back in his chair. James is tracing the grain of the wood on top of the table.

 “Did you say that just to make him come?”

 “No.”

 “Would you do it, then?”

 “Depends.”

 “On?”

 Bucky slows his breath, focuses. “Why you want it.”

 “Do I really need to tell you?”

 “Little bit, yeah. Sorry. I can probably let you get away with less than anyone else, because, you know. Me. But when I get home, Coulson is going to just know if I have unnegotiated kink on my hands and he’ll kill me so slow it’d make you proud.”

 “That’s why.”

 “You think you deserve it?”

 James shakes his head.

 “You want it to hurt?”

 James nods.

 “Use your fucking words, James,” Bucky snarls at him.

 “Yes.” It comes out as a whimper.

 “Go to the living room. Take your shirt and shoes off. Don’t fucking do anything else.”

 James hesitates. Bucky slaps him, hard, his hand moving so fast James almost doesn’t see it.

 He goes.

 Cap and Steve look up when he comes in the room.

 James doesn’t acknowledge them, just strips his shirt off over his head and drops it on the floor.

 “James?” Steve asks. “You okay?”

 “What happened to your face?” Cap asks, standing.

 “Sit down, Cap,” Bucky says, leaning against the wall just inside the room.

 “Bucky, did you do this?”

 “I said, sit down, Cap.” Bucky takes another deep breath. “This is. Going to get ugly. Because James wants it ugly.”

 James nods.

 “Not always. Not again. Not with either of you. For either of us. But this time. We need this.”

 “Bucky?” Steve asks him. That look on Bucky’s face usually means he’s just had a panic attack for no reason, and he needs to go break something to make his head right again.

 “You got your words, Steve. You fight with words, you heal with words. They’re your best weapon. Me and James? We _are_ the weapon.”

 “I get it,” Cap says. He puts his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

 “You don’t have to stay,” James tells him, then looks at Bucky.

 “You don’t have to stay,” Bucky agrees. “But you need to decide now. If you get up and leave in the middle, that’s. That’s going to cause more problems than it’ll solve. It’s not fair to spring this on you, but. Once this starts, it’s going straight through to end, and there’s not going to be any pausing in the middle.”

 “We’ll stay,” Steve says, defiantly crossing his arms over his chest.

 Bucky wants him here and doesn’t in equal measure. “It’s going to be ugly, Steve. It’s going to hurt.”

 “I know.”

 “I’m in,” Cap says.

 Bucky nods.

 *

 He strips off his shirt and shoes, but leaves his jeans on. He circles James slowly, twice, then stops in front of him. James stares slightly to his left, waiting.

 Bucky balances his weight. He cocks his arm back and swings from his hips, hitting James hard across his cheekbone.

 James rocks back slightly with the punch, and Bucky throws another before he recovers.

 James does not react.

 “Fight back.” Bucky hits him with his left.

 “You asked for this, you _fucking_ fight back,” he growls.

 James throughs a half-hearted punch, pulling it at the end so that it glances off Bucky’s shoulder.

 “I said fight back, you stupid son of a bitch. This is your fault,” he snarls, mixing in a couple of hits to his stomach.

 “You want this? You take responsibility for it,” Bucky stresses the word responsibility strangely, and Cap and Steve exchange a look. This is not exactly what they had expected to happen.

 “It was your decision. You lead them there. This. All. Happened. Because of you!”

 James springs into action, twisting his body so that he dodges Bucky’s next punch, He grabs his wrist as it flies past his face and uses Bucky’s momentum to turn him, get him in a choke hold.

 “It was your decision, wasn’t it,” Bucky claws at his arm, pulling down so he can keep breathing. He steps back, pressing his leg behind James’ and he lets go. Bucky backs off, circling with James again, trying to regain the upper hand. He knows James is resisting more than he’s actually fighting, and it’s driving Bucky to want to put him down, to prove he can still do this. He’s never lost a fight that started in the pit, but taking out a couple of jackasses starting shit in a pit is nothing compared to a real fight, actual combat, besting someone well trained and evenly matched.

 “Retreat or press on. If you’d have gone back,” Bucky croaks, hooking his leg behind James’ knee, using his weight against him.

 He squares up against him, circling with him, watching for an opening. “If you’d have gone back,” he pants, “how much of this would never have happened?” He feints left, the dodges right, grabbing James by his ponytail and jerking his arm downward. James falls easily, knocking Bucky off balance by hitting him in the knee. Bucky manages to drive his elbow into James’ stomach on the way down.

 They grapple for a moment, but James is talking now. “You know why Steve lets you fuck him?”

 “Don’t say his name. You don’t deserve to say his name.” He leans on James’ throat, and draws his knee up hard against James’ balls.

 James closes his legs at the last minute, takes the bruising hit to his thigh instead. He slams his heel into Bucky’s calf. “Do you know. Why Steve. Lets you fuck him?”

 Bucky leans down harder, cutting off James’ air, making it so there’s no noise when his lips for the words, “It’s all you’re good for.”

 Bucky’s anger makes him sloppy, and he loses his hold. James presses his advantage, bringing his knees upward into Bucky’s chest and throwing him over his head. Bucky lands against the wall, hard, and distantly something crashes to the floor, shattering on impact.

 “They won’t tell you this,” James says softly as Bucky advances on him. He’s aware that Cap and Steve are still in the room, but only dimly, only if he thinks about it. “Because they love you,” he laughs, meanly, showing his teeth. He pushes off the wall, backing Bucky across the room.

 He switches to Russian, “Because they think there’s anything in there that should be loved. Because they think there’s anything more to you than this.” He lands a flurry of body blows. “But there is nothing left of you, is there?”

 Bucky screams, a pained, inhuman sound that makes the tears Steve’s been holding back finally spill over.

 Cap wraps his arms around him, drawing strength from him. He’s not sure they made the right decision, staying. But he couldn’t not be here for this.

 It seems to go on forever, but really can’t be more than about ten minutes before Bucky lands a punch to James’ face that knocks him down, and he wastes no time in leaning over his, forearm pressed to James’ windpipe. James waits, lets Bucky makes the next move. Waits for the crushing feeling to come, the inability to breathe. Maybe for his vision to swim and go dim.

 “There is,” Bucky tells him, letting off his neck and straddling him. He uses all of his weight to hold James in place. His fist is clenched hard in his hair, and he tugs, sharply. “Look at me. James, look at me,”

 He blinks back the tears in his eyes. “There is so much left of you to love.”

 James shakes his head back and forth, a whine escaping him like a trapped animal.

 “There is so much of you to love,” Bucky repeats.

 “No!” James shouts.

 Bucky leans down, whispers in his ear, “There is. There is. And now you’re going to let us prove it. You’re going to be so good for us. You’re going to be so good.”

 James shakes his head again weakly.

 ‘Yes you are. You’re going to be so fucking good for us. For me, and for your Steve, and for my Stevie, you’re going to be so good, and we’re going to love you so fucking sweet, baby boy, and you’re going to take it, and you’re going to let us do this for you, and you’re going to do this for us, and that’s your mission now, isn’t it?”

 James nods, once.

 “What was that?”

 “Yes.” His voice cracks, and he repeats, stronger, “Yes.”

 “Good boy. Steve?”

 “Yeah?” Steve’s voice sounds far away.

 “You and Cap can come here now.”

 Bucky backs off James as Cap takes his place, folding James to him and kissing him sweet and deep, exactly like Bucky promised he would.

 Steve hovers between them and Bucky, his eyes darting back and forth, from Bucky’s busted lip and knuckles, to the blood dripping down James’ chin, smearing across Cap’s face with their kiss.

 Bucky opens his mouth to reassure him, but recognizes this as Steve’s artist face. He’s taking in the details, making connections between the colors he’s seeing and paint and ink catalog numbers, shading techniques, materials and mediums.

 “With me, babe?”

 Steve nods, then drapes himself over Cap’s back, forcing his way in between him and James and kissing the both of them at the same time.

 “Fuck,” Bucky says.

 ‘Yes, please,” Steve moans, thrusting against Cap’s back. “Get over here.”

 Cap’s still kissing James, but he’s gentle now, letting Steve in, turning between the two of them. Steve’s running his hands up and down James’ arms biting Cap’s jaw when he’s not kissing him and scratching thin pink lines across his chest.

 “You’re doing so well, James,” Bucky tells him, sliding up behind Steve and pressing him even harder into Cap’s back.

 James shakes his head once, just a quick turn from side to side.

 “You are. Tell him, Cap. Tell him how good he is.”

 “You’re so good, James,” Caps tells him, sounding so earnest James can’t help but believe him.

 “Good,” Steve echoes.

 “No,” James says.

 Bucky reaches around Steve and Cap, pulls James’ face into Cap’s shoulder and then moves around behind him, sandwiching James and Cap between him and Steve. “Yes. Yes you are. You feel this? Me behind you, holding you here? Cap in front of you? Feel how warm he is? how safe he is? And behind him, Steve. You know how fierce Stevie is? How right and true and good he is?”

 James nods, mashing his face harder into Cap’s shoulder.

 “You think either one of them would be here with you if you weren’t good?”

 “No,” James whimpers.

 “No,” Cap tells him. “You’re good, and we’re here. We’re right here.”

 Bucky pushes James’ shoulder to lever himself up, then holds out his hands. “We’re all going to be right here, but in a bed. I gotta get off that floor. Stevie, you never shoulda even got on the floor.”

 Bucky heads into Cap’s bedroom, and he knows the others are right behind him. Steve and Cap both tip right over, lie down with each other on the bed, wrapped up with each other, James comes next, pushes between them, his face pressed into Cap’s chest once again, Steve’s hand on the back of his neck. His breath hitches every now and again, but he’s calming. Bucky spoons up behind James and reaches his arm across them both to find Steve’s hand. He closes his eyes, drained.

 *

 When he wakes up, it’s to Cap settling a blanket over him. He’s still tucked in behind James, their legs tangled together, but now Steve’s pressed to James’ chest, blond hair under James’ chin.

 “He was cold,” Cap explains softly.

 “You okay?” He sits up slowly, waiting to make sure James isn’t going to wake up. The last thing he needs is to feel abandoned now.

 “I think so. You?”

 Bucky stretches his jaw, cracks his neck. He follows Cap into the kitchen and sits in one of the chairs. He’s sore, and his right eye’s still swelling. He probably won’t be able to open it tomorrow. His knuckles sting and he’s limping from where James kicked him in the knee.

 He feels great.

 “Fun fact about the serum,” Cap tells him. “It makes learning things ... not easier. But retaining knowledge. That’s nearly effortless now. I was always interested in strategy. And I’ve always been good with languages. I wasn’t surprised when I woke up and they told me about the Cold - “

 “How long have you been fluent in Russian, Cap?”

 “I started learning before the plane went down.”

 Bucky looks away. “Context made it pretty obvious what was said.”

 “How long have you needed to hear it?”

 “Wasn’t for me.”

 Cap kneels in front of him and cups his jaw, digging his fingers into the back of Bucky’s skull and pressing his thumbs under Bucky’s chin. “You are so fucking good for us,” he says.

 “Cap, I don’t - “

 “You are so. Fucking. Good. For us. For me, and for your Steve, and for James,” Cap leans in, kisses him softly, tracing the outline of his bottom lip with his tongue. “You are so good.”

 Cap pulls back, licking his lips.

 Bucky nods.

 *

 When James wakes up, and Steve finally opens his eyes, Cap and Bucky have already decided on pizza for dinner. Bucky leans back on the sofa and Steve settles between his legs, his head pillowed on Bucky’s stomach while he eats.

 Both Cap and James watch them, but decide with a look not to mention it.

 “Nope. This part you have to figure out on your own,” Steve tells them, leaning forward for another slice and handing it to Bucky.

 James smiles at him from the floor next to Cap’s arm chair. He’s eaten two slices and Cap looks so contented if he was a cat he’d be purring. Now he’s sitting back, eyes drifting closed for longer and longer stretches of time while Bucky and Cap finish off the rest of the third large pie.

 They’d let Steve find some background music on James’ phone, and Cap had promised to take Bucky to Tony’s to talk about the tech the next morning.

 They are all ignoring the fact that if Tony’s right - Steve and Bucky won’t be around the next morning.

 The next time James jerks his head back upright and his eyes fly back open, Steve stands up. “Bed. Now.”

 “No, I’m awake. I want to stay.”

 “James, no, you’re falling asleep. Let’s go to bed,” Cap says.

 “No! I’ll go to sleep, and they won’t be here anymore. They put me to sleep and took you away. And you promised! You promised you wouldn’t let them do that anymore.”

 “James,” Cap says. He sounds wrecked.

 “We can’t stay here,” Steve says. “I want to. Or I want to bring you home with us, but we can’t stay. James, we don’t belong here.”

 “Neither do we,” James says.

 No one has an answer for that.

 “Come on. Let’s go back to bed.”

 “No.”

 Cap stands. “It’s not going to be long is it?”

 Steve shakes his head. “I can’t describe it, but I recognize this feeling now.”

 Cap follows Steve into the bedroom. Bucky waits next to James.

 “No.”

 “Okay.”

 Bucky crawls into bed next to Steve. Cap’s holding himself a little stiffly. Steve backs into him, and takes his arm and arranges it around him where he wants it.

 “He’ll be okay,” Cap says.

 “I know.”

 “Move over,” James says, stepping into the bedroom.. “You always stole all the blankets.” He shoves Cap hard.

 Cap rolls onto his back. Bucky lays next to him, with Steve mostly on top of them. James slides in on Cap’s other side. Bucky’s vision goes a little grey around the edges.

 “Oh,” Steve says. He kisses Cap, then James, then Cap again.

 “I’m ready,” James says. His voice is soft but his eyes are clear. He traces his finger down the side of Steve’s face. “You can. You should go.”

 “Close your eyes, babe.”

 *


End file.
